Much Better Than Doing Lines
by blissedoutvixen
Summary: Hermione gets detention with a certain Professor. Of age, 7th year Hermione. BDSM. Shameless smut, but with dashes of romance and sweetness.
1. Submission

Hermione knocked lightly on the door of Professor Lupin's office. Yesterday, having foolishly agreed to play look out during one of Harry and Ron's childish pranks, Hermione had found herself caught holding the dung bomb, if you will. To make the already embarrassing scenario of the Head Girl of Hogwarts being caught with highly illegal, highly smelly contraband even worse, the one to catch her had been Professor Lupin.

Professor Lupin, at the request of both Harry and Dumbledore, had reluctantly agreed to once again take up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. This had triggered a heated, school wide debate over whether Lupin could be considered to have lasted more than one year, as his two years of teaching were not in succession. Hermione had refused to get involved in such things, and was just glad that she would have such a thoughtful and competent teacher for her last year of school. After all, NEWTS were very important, and it would be deeply beneficial to have a knowledgeable Professor this year.

To her detriment, Hermione found herself developing something of a crush on her DADA Professor. She couldn't help noticing how handsome he was when he was well fed, and lately she had found herself daydreaming away his lessons lost in fantasies about what it would be like to run her fingers through his delectably soft looking hair. This was considerably less productive than actually paying attention. Of course, she was still doing very well in the DADA, but she was Hermione Granger; she didn't want to be doing well, she wanted to be doing _exceptional_. She should be doing exceptional! But he was so incredibly handsome, and when he looked at her with those warm, tawny eyes she just melted into a mindless pile of goo.

It was the utter stupidity of second year and her childish crush on Lockhart all over again! Except this time it was considerably worse. Professor Lupin wasn't attractive in the plastic, cookie cutter, ken doll (with barley more brain function) way that Lockhart had been. He was…rougher, and handsome in a way that was less pretty boy and more manly. She found herself longing to discover all of his scars and run her fingers over them, or perhaps even her tongue. She shivered at the thought. This was why her crush on Professor Lupin was more problematic than her crush on Lockhart had been. She found herself having distinctly un-childish thoughts about him, such as what it would feel like to have him run his calloused hands all over her body. She had also developed an unfortunate tendency to stare avidly at his crotch during lessons. No matter how hard she tried to look anywhere else, her eyes always seemed to find their way back there. It was ridiculous, but she couldn't seem to help herself.

Lately, in a futile attempt to gain Professor Lupin's attention in a way that was more than platonic, Hermione had begun charming her uniform skirts shorter and shorter. She was becoming uncomfortably aware that she was behaving more and more like Parvati, but she just couldn't seem to help herself. Standing outside his office now, Hermione bit her lip, and knocked again, nervously tugging down on her skirt. Other than a raised eyebrow, Professor Lupin hadn't seemed to pay much attention to her shorter hemlines, but Hermione couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like if she were to straddle him in one of her new, short skirts and-

"Come in," came the call from inside his office, ripping Hermione out of her less than pure thoughts. Hermione resisted the urge to bang her head against the door in exasperation. How could she have lost herself in a fantasy about the man right before she was about to see him? For Merlin's sake, she had gotten so caught up she'd already managed to soak her panties with wetness. She really needed to get a grip. Taking a deep breath, Hermione straightened her skirt one last time, and entered Professor Lupin's office.

Rather than sitting at his desk grading papers, as she had expected him to be, her professor was standing near the door and almost looked as if he had been waiting for her. He seemed on edge.

"Good evening, Professor," Hermione said quietly, feeling somewhat on edge herself. She found she was tense and breathless just from being in his presence.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," her Professor returned, sounding anything but his usual relaxed self.

When a few minutes had passed, with Lupin studying her intently, and Hermione growing increasingly flustered in the ongoing silence, she summoned her bravery and broached the subject of what she would be doing for her detention.

"What would you have me do, Professor?" she asked, and he jerked in response to her words. "Will I be writing lines or -"

"Bend over my desk," he stated abruptly, cutting her off.

"W-what?" Hermione stuttered, gaping at him in shock. He had to be joking. But he didn't appear to be joking. In fact, he looked deadly serious.

"You heard me, Miss Granger. Bend over my desk." There was a deliciously authoritative edge to his voice that both frightened and excited her.

Hermione could feel her face burning with a combination of mortification and desire. She knew that if she bent over the desk as he had commanded her, that he would be able to see her knickers, that was how scandalously short she had charmed her skirt. The thought made her squirm with embarrassment, but also an intoxicating excitement. Slowly, blushing to the roots of her bushy hair, Hermione made her way closer to his desk. Extending her arms over the mahogany wood to brace herself, she hesitatingly bent over, all too aware of the picture she was now presenting to her Professor.

"There you are. You're usually so quick obey your Professors, Miss Granger. You're not losing that are you?"

"No, Sir," Hermione said shakily.

"Good, we wouldn't want that," murmured Professor Lupin. She could feel him coming closer, her body hyper aware of him. Hermione was sure that she could feel the intense gaze of her Professor burning hotly into her center, which was covered only by her thin, white cotton knickers. She was vaguely wishing that she had worn a sexier pair of underwear when she came to realization that, with how soaked her panties already were, her Professor could surely see right through them. Her whole body burned with embarrassment.

"Why, Miss Granger," Lupin admonished, making a scolding noise in the back of his throat, "you appear to have completely soaked through your knickers. Can you explain that?"

"Ah - Professor, I -"

"Perhaps you should take them off," he mused.

Hermione stilled, her abdomen burning with unbearably hot tension at his words. She couldn't believe this was happening. This was absolutely insane. She had certainly fantasized about similar situations, but it seemed unreal that her Professor was actually standing behind her, peering at the outline of her dripping wet pussy and suggesting she remove her knickers for him. Perhaps she was dreaming. Whatever the case, Hermione decided that for once she would let go and embrace her desires, however depraved anyone else may think them.

Obligingly, she reached back as if to remove her underwear, but before she could, Lupin roughly grabbed her hip with one hand, flattening her arms back to the desk with the other. Hermione gasped involuntarily.

"Miss Granger!" Lupin said sharply. "Did I say you could move?"

Hermione was frozen in shocked silence. When she had neglected to answer him for a while, Lupin squeezed her hip hard, clearly demanding an explanation for her behavior.

"No!" gasped Hermione.

"Then why did you?" he asked, removing the hand that was pressing her arms to the desk and grasping her other hip with it. She found herself automatically arching up into his hands, displaying more of herself to him, perhaps in a subconscious gesture of submissiveness.

"I - you -," she said helplessly.

"That was very insolent of you, Miss Granger. You've been a very naughty girl." He punctuated this statement by delivering a sharp slap to her bottom, prompting tingling not only in her round, little arse, but also in her already quivering center.

"Ahh," she breathed inadequately, finding it was more of a moan than a verbal response. She was so consumed that Hermione found she couldn't properly speak.

"From now on you will do as I say, Miss Granger, or else I shall have to punish you. Do you understand?"

"Yes - yes, I -"

"And you will address me only as Sir, or Professor."

Hermione squirmed and nodded, struggling valiantly to keep from rubbing her thighs together or wrenching one of her hands from the desk to give herself some much needed relief. But she knew Lupin wouldn't allow that, and as a result found herself shifting ridiculously, even attempting to rub herself against the desk. She was too far gone with unrelenting lust to stop herself, but not quite far gone enough not to feel embarrassed by her actions.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" Lupin asked mildly, beginning to rhythmically massage her hips, soothing where he had grabbed her so roughly earlier.

"Y-yes," she managed to choke out.

He stilled, and she could feel his tension. "Yes, what?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir," she replied breathlessly.

"That's better," he told her. "Good girl," and he lightly patted her on the bum. Hermione's cheeks, already suffused with a hot blush, darkened in further mortification. He was patronizing her! Before she could open her mouth to say anything unwisely indignant, her Professor did something that shocked her to her core. He removed a hand from one of her hips, and reached forward to cup her through her soaking knickers.

She gasped in shock and wonder from the sensation, and found herself bucking back into his palm, desperate for more friction. The feel of Lupin's big, warm hand over her most secret place was driving her insane, and she couldn't believe he wasn't moving it. Just when Hermione thought she was going to go mad with lust, he began dragging his thumb up and down her slit. She could feel him clearly through the thin, damp, cotton slip of her underwear, but it wasn't enough. She rotated her hips restlessly, desperate for him to touch her more. She wanted his bare, calloused fingers against her slick, wet skin.

He continued to drag his thumb agonizingly up and down along her slit, now holding her hips down hard enough with his free hand that she was unable to move up into the one cupping her. Hermione whimpered as he continued to stroke her slowly, with only a slight, inadequate pressure. He continued his agonizing torture for intermittently, before suddenly swiping one tantalizing finger underneath the fabric of her knickers. He slid the finger up and down between her hot, wet lips. Hermione tried mindlessly to undulate her hips, but Professor Lupin had too tight a hold on them. Damn his werewolf strength! When he slipped his thumb beneath her knickers and brushed it lightly over her clit, Hermione was unable to stop herself from letting out a wanton, needy moan and jerking erratically.

Lupin chuckled, "Miss Granger, eager as always I see. You're positively dripping." He pushed one of his wicked fingers slightly into her, demonstrating how ready she was for him. Hermione twitched.

"Are you aware that you've completely soaked through your panties?" Professor Lupin asked conversationally as he flicked her clit relentlessly with his thumb, and slid his finger deeper inside her. In answer, all Hermione could do was let out a strangled moan.

"These are very naughty, little panties," her Professor commented, beginning to pump his finger slowly in and out of her. "I'm afraid I may have to confiscate them."

And with that, he slid his finger out of her and withdrew his hand completely from her. Hermione whimpered at the loss, slightly ashamed of how pathetic she was acting, but not enough to stop begging for his touch. He then removed his other hand from her hip, and ran both of them partway down her thighs. She hummed at the sensation of his rough palms against her soft skin. Her own wetness now adorned her thigh, transferred to her by the hand that had been teasing her so unrelentingly. In a depraved sort of way, this turned her on even more.

Her Professor kneaded her thighs before slowly dragging his hands back up to settle on her bum. Hermione wiggled in anticipation of what he would do. He flipped up her miniscule skirt, exposing her backside completely. The slight, artificial breeze that the motion created had Hermione crying out softly at the new sensation. She could almost feel Lupin's smirk as he briefly rubbed one finger against her clit through her soaked knickers. He then reached for the waistband of them, and Hermione, living up to her reputation as the brightest witch of her age, even in such a state, quickly caught on to what her Professor was doing. She lifted her arse eagerly up into the air in order to aid in the removal of her knickers.

Slowly, Professor Lupin hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her panties and began to ease them down. The sudden rush of cool air against her wet pussy had Hermione gasping. Lupin chuckled again, before guiding the witch to step out of her knickers. It was silent for a while, and Hermione squirmed, wondering what Lupin was doing. Was he examining her knickers? She found herself somewhat embarrassed over how wet they were. He had barely touched her, and already she had managed to drench her underwear. She must seem terribly inexperienced.

"Don't move," Lupin said brusquely. She sensed him stepping slightly away from her and heard the sounds of a desk drawer opening. Was he getting something, or storing her knickers there? Hermione craned her neck around to see and saw him depositing her underwear in a drawer. She quickly faced forward again, tingling with excitement. Was he going to keep them? Would they still be there when she next had class with him? She shivered at the thought.

Hermione could feel her Professor approaching her again. Her heart sped up as he drew nearer, and she found herself panting softly. Did he notice?

"Miss Granger," Lupin said, laying one hand on her right hip and caressing it lightly. Hermione sighed and arched into his touch, her arse rising higher, inviting him. "I believe I told you not to move." She stilled.

"I - I -" she stuttered.

"However, I distinctly saw you turn your head toward me the minute I stepped away from you, did you not?"

Hermione's cheeks burned. "Yes, Sir," she said shamefully, hanging her head.

_**SMACK**_

A stinging blow was delivered to her bare bottom and she jerked in shock. He had hit her not with his hand, but something flat and wooden. Perhaps a ruler or pointer of some kind. It hurt more than when he had spanked her earlier, and she had a feeling there would be marks in the morning. The thought only aroused her. She had disobeyed him and the fact that a reminder of her punishment would mark her only made her leak more wetness.

"That was very naughty of you to disobey me, Miss Granger. That's twice now you've moved without my permission," said Professor Lupin softly, now massaging where he had hit her. "You've been a very bad girl as of late, haven't you?"

"Yes, Professor," she said huskily, "very bad."

"I'm afraid I shall have to take precautions with you now Miss Granger, to ensure you do not disobey me again."

"Yes, Sir," breathed Hermione. What was he going to do, she wondered. His hands left her buttock and moved down to her thighs, slowly spreading them till she was braced flat over the desk with her feet spread about two feet apart on the ground. Then she heard him mutter something and suddenly found that she could not move her hands, arms or feet. Her appendages were glued to the desk and floor respectively.

Hermione was trembling with need and arousal. She found the fact that she was now immobile only excited her more. She opened her mouth to beg Lupin to please, just get on with it already and touch her, but found that no sound came out. She continued to mouth uselessly.

"Ah, yes," Lupin explained in his 'lecture voice', something that made Hermione all too aware of the fact that the man was her Professor, "I've also cast a modified silencing charm on you. You can make noises, but will be able to speak only when I've commanded you to."

To test this, Hermione let out a moan and the soft, keening sound echoed throughout the chamber. Lupin then reached out and began to lightly run his fingers over her backside, brushing achingly close to her dripping hot center every so often, but never quite touching where Hermione most needed him too. She whimpered and squirmed, shifting and arching desperately, doing anything to try and find his touch. In response to this, Lupin's fingers danced still farther away, as if to punish her for her behavior. He was now running his fingers lightly over the backs of her thighs. Hermione found the action tickled. When he hit a particular spot close to the back of her knee she twitched and let out a breathless giggle. Lupin stilled.

"Is something funny, Miss Granger?" he inquired darkly, still dragging his fingers lightly up and down her thighs, tickling her relentlessly. She was sure he knew what he was doing to her. She could feel his smirk burning into the back of her head.

"No, Sir," Hermione gasped, trying desperately not to let out another giggle. She found she could answer him when asked a direct question.

"I should hope not," Lupin said sternly. "Detention is hardly the place for amusement."

If Hermione could have spoken she would dearly have loved to say that detention was hardly the place for what they were doing _now_ either.

With one hand still tickling her thighs, venturing tantalizingly close to her center, Lupin reached with his other and cupped her bare, soaking wet pussy.

Hermione began moving her arse up and down, as much as she could with her now limited movement, shamelessly rubbing against her professors hand as he cupped her. She was an eager kitten longing to be stroked.

Lupin chuckled over her behavior, prodding her clit with one of his long, calloused fingers. Hermione moaned and bucked into his hand.

"Wanton, little witch," he murmured, continuing to circle her clit with one finger while inserting another inside her. He began to pump it in and out of her before adding another and scissoring them inside Hermione's tight sleeve, stretching her deliciously. She moaned in pleasure, beginning to think that he was finally going to give her what she needed. Just as she was gleefully anticipating her impending release, the tight heat in her stomach mounting to unbearable levels, Lupin withdrew his fingers from her. Shortly thereafter his hand had vanished completely from her body.

Hermione whimpered pitifully, but Lupin was still there, he just wasn't touching her anymore. He was torturing her! The man was an absolute sadist. She never would have believed he had it in him, but here she was, spread prone over his desk, completely exposed, unable to speak or move, and having been teased almost beyond her breaking point.

"Open your mouth," came the command, low and harsh next to her ear, his hot breath fanning over it.

Hermione obligingly spread her lips, waiting with tense anticipation for what, she didn't know. Gradually Lupin's hand came into view. She could see his fingers, wet and sticky, glistening with her essence. They came closer, and Hermione's eyes widened in shocked realization. And then those wet, sticky fingers were in her mouth. She swirled her tongue around them and sucked hard, giving each finger individual attention and lapping at them eagerly, as if they were another, much larger, appendage of her Professor's. She could taste a strange, tangy saltiness on his digits that she knew to be herself.

"Can you taste yourself on me?" Lupin murmured seductively against her ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth in a way that made her stomach flip. "Can you taste how wet you are for me, you dirty, little girl? Do you like it?"

Hermione was surprised by how much she did like it. "Mmm," she mumbled around his fingers, which she was still sucking with abandon. He let her suck and lick them for a while longer, before slowly withdrawing them from her mouth with a slick pop. Hermione panted, staring fixedly at his hand. It moved out of her sight and then she felt her Professor wipe it off on her bare arse, as if she were a conveniently placed towel for him to use. And it made absolutely no sense because her skirt was _right there_, and he could have just wiped his hand on that! Hermione's cheeks flooded with renewed heat, part arousal, part indignation, and part shame. Before this evening she had never felt such a strange combination of degradation and desire.

Before Hermione could even begin to attempt and sort out her feelings, a rather monumental task given her haze of lust, she heard the distinct sound of a belt buckle being undone. All rational thought completely flew out of her head. She was now solely attuned to the sounds of what her Professor was doing behind her.

There was a rustling of fabric that Hermione thought must mean that he had at least partly removed his trousers, and then a torturous interval of about thirty seconds in which Lupin muttered what Hermione guessed to be spells. She trembled in need. He was so close. Oh, how she wished he would -

And suddenly he was there; his arms braced on either side of her on the desk, and his raging hard on probing between her folds. Her breath hitched at the feel of him against her, so much more stirring than his hand. She tried to arch against him, tried to urge his cock inside her, but found that she was unable to move at all. He had completely immobilized her. That must have been one of the spells he had done just now. She moaned in a combination of frustration and need. His tip was poised torturously at her entrance and she couldn't do a single thing to move this along. Hermione had no control. She was completely at her Professor's mercy. All she could do was wait submissively for him to act. Wait for him to use her, for she would not be able to respond to him in any way. All she could do was receive him. She moaned again.

Suddenly, without any warning, he thrust harshly and fully inside her. His hips smashed roughly against her and she suddenly found herself incasing the entirety of him. Hermione cried out, barely having time to get used to the feeling of him being so deeply buried inside of her before he withdrew and slammed into her again. Lupin continued to take her in this fashion, rough and fast against his desk, slamming her into it repeatedly. She was sure there would be bruises in the morning. Hermione had never been taken so roughly before, and with such a complete lack of regard to her pleasure. Nevertheless, she found that a hot, deep, pressure was mounting inside her, more and more with each relentless thrust of her Professor. Her moans and gasps rang out loudly, mixing with his animalistic grunts as they both drew closer and closer to completion. And then one deep, hard thrust hit an undiscovered place inside her that had her hurtling into orgasm.

Hermione cried out mindlessly, completely lost to her pleasure as she convulsed around her Professor's member. She had never before had so explosive an orgasm. Professor Lupin's thrusts became more and more erratic, and just as she was coming down from her high she felt him tense behind her. With a great shudder he found his release, groaning low and primal as he came undone inside her. She felt the hot spurt of his seed filling her up, leaking out, and dripping down her thighs. Soon they were both panting, her leaning heavily on the desk, and him leaning on her. She thought that if she wasn't being held up by magic she might have collapsed. Her legs were jelly and her brain was mush.

He withdrew from her slowly, still panting, and she could hear the sounds of him tucking himself back into his pants and making himself presentable once more. She herself was far too sated and tired to care that she was still bent over a desk, slicked in sweat, totally disheveled, and looking for all the world as if she had been fucked within an inch of her life. Which she had.

Hermione was just closing her eyes, thinking she might fall asleep despite what she was now noticing to be her rather uncomfortable position, when Professor Lupin spoke from behind her, sounding as infuriatingly composed as ever.

"You may get up now, Miss Granger," he informed her calmly, sounding for all the world as if she had simply been knocked to the ground during a practical dueling demonstration in class.

Slowly, as if hesitant to believe that she would indeed now be able to move, Hermione eased herself from the desk and into a standing position. She flexed her hands experimentally, and feeling rather stiff, raised her arms above her head in a much needed stretch, completely unaware that she was inadvertently exposing herself once again to her Professor. Finishing her stretch, and unable to think of anything else to do to stall, she reluctantly turned around to face her Lupin.

He was looking quite as he always did, sitting quietly and grading papers. The only sign of what had just taken place was the slight flush on his pale cheeks. When she turned around, he set down his quill and looked up at her. When he sought out her eyes she found herself blushing and looking away. She would never be able to look at him the same way again. Doubtlessly, she would be the permanent colour of a tomato in his classes from now on. She found herself simultaneously dreading and looking forward to her future Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons. When she darted a glance at Lupin through her eyelashes, she found that he had gone back to grading papers.

"Erm, Professor," she spoke up.

He looked up, and she blushed harder. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Will that be all?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, you may go," he said dismissively, going back to his papers. She could scarcely believe how he was acting. As if absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. It was maddening!

She spun around to go, and was just about to open the door to his office and leave when she came to the sudden realization that she wasn't wearing her knickers anymore. Blushing more hotly then ever, she turned around to face her Professor once more.

"Professor are you going to - that is…," he raised an expectant eyebrow at her, and Hermione scowled. She was never this inarticulate! What was wrong with her!

"You still have my knickers, are you going to give them back to me?" she sputtered finally.

Lupin smirked, and Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "I'm afraid not, Miss Granger. I never return items that I've confiscated, and if you don't want your underwear collection severely diminished, I suggest you quit wearing them in my presence. I wouldn't want to have to confiscate any more pairs of your delectable knickers."

Hermione gaped at him, wide eyed. "Yes, Professor," she managed to say breathlessly, before turning around and heading for the door.

"Oh, and Miss Granger," Professor Lupin called, just as her hand had alighted on the door knob, "Remember, tonight was only the first part of your detention. You still have the rest of the week to serve. Report to my office at nine o'clock tomorrow night. Don't be late."

Hermione nodded with her back to him, suddenly not trusting herself to speak. After taking a moment to collect herself, for she was now feeling flustered all over again, she hastily exited his office.

As Hermione walked back to the Gryffindor common room, she shivered, having never before noticed just how drafty the Hogwarts corridors could be at night.


	2. Attentiveness

**AN: A couple people asked if I was going to be continuing this story, so I decided what the hell, why not. Here's the second chap. Hope you like! Also, I totally don't own this.**

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><p>"Using occlumency and nonverbal spells in tandem is an incredibly effective, though also incredibly difficult, brand of defensive magic. Very few wizards are able to do it, much less master it enough to be able to maintain it for any useful amount of time during battle -"<p>

As Professor Lupin continued to lecture, Hermione found herself once again struggling to pay attention in her DADA class. Well, struggling to pay attention to anything other than how adorably 'Professorish' Lupin looked at the moment. He had shed his thick outer robes to reveal slightly worn, tan trousers, and a dark, navy blue sweater. Hermione shifted a bit in her seat, leaning over and resting her chin comfortably on her hand. This afforded her a better position from which to study her Professor, and she found this a much more enjoyable activity than actually listening to what he was saying. Not that she didn't like to hear him talk! He provided endlessly fascinating conversation, and the sound of his voice was rather pleasant in and of itself. She let it wash over her now, enjoying the soothing steadiness of it, and the wry amusement she could hear in his tone every once in a while as he interacted with her classmates.

His voice was comforting, calling to Hermione's mind the feeling of sitting before a pleasantly warm fire in the Gryffindor common room. He had sounded so different last night, when he was commanding her, and whispering wicked instructions in her ear. There had been an underlining, authoritative edge in his voice, one that had compelled her to do anything he told her to. She found herself flushing hotly at the memory of all the things she had done last night at Lupin's bidding. All the things she had let him do to her. She had acted like a harlot! But Merlin, it had felt good. She never would have thought that she would enjoy relinquishing complete control like that, but it had felt almost natural with him, liberating and intoxicatingly sensual. Hermione could still feel the way he had dragged his teeth across her ear lobe, and she found herself arching slightly in her chair just at the memory.

She sat up straighter in an effort to disguise her arch, but Lupin spotted it.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" he inquired, the mild concern in his tone belying the look of wicked amusement sparking in his tawny eyes. "You look a little flushed."

At this pronouncement, about half the class turned to peer curiously at her, and Hermione found herself turning an even deeper shade scarlet. She shot a burning glare at Lupin, and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly.

"Merlin, Hermione, what's wrong with your face?" Ron asked loudly, tactless as ever.

Leaning rather uncomfortably close to her in an effort to examine her now beet red face, Ron declared, "You look like Ginny when she's been dosed with Pepper-up!"

"Yes, thank you, Ronald!" Hermione said tightly, shoving him away in irritation. "I'll have everyone know that I'm perfectly fine. It's just a little warm in here!"

"It's November," said Ron flatly. "In Scotland." The class tittered, and Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. Leave it to Ron to be observant for once at exactly the wrong time.

"Alright, alright," said Lupin, raising his arm in order to get their now divided attention. "I think that's all for today. Remember to read the section on occlumency in chapter 10 by next week. Dismissed."

Chatter broke out along with the scraping of chairs, and shuffling of papers, as everyone began to pack up to leave. Hermione was adjusting her bag and preparing to head to Charms with Harry and Ron when Professor Lupin called out to her.

"Miss Granger, a moment if you please."

Hermione stilled, gesturing vaguely for Harry and Ron to go on without her, before turning around to face Professor Lupin. As the last of her housemates gathered their things and began to trickle out of the classroom, Hermione found herself locked in an intense staring match with her Professor. The unspoken tension between them was thick and palpable. Her stomach was abuzz with nervous anticipation, and her breaths were coming quick and shallow now. His gaze was challenging and possessive, as if he could claim and hold her just by the power of his intent stare.

Only when all her classmates had finally vanished, and she found herself alone with him, did Hermione approach her Professor. She strode as confidently as she could across the flagstone floor until she was standing before him. He was perched on the very edge of his desk, leaning casually back, legs slightly parted. Against her will, Hermione found her eyes darting down to his crotch. She was perfectly aware that he would see, but his legs were spread so enticingly that it was as if he was begging her to stare. Entirely unaware of herself, as if hypnotized by the slight bulge in his trousers, Hermione slowly licked her lips.

Lupin coughed lightly, and the sound managed to jar Hermione from her trance. With yet another blush blooming on her cheeks, she quickly redirected her gaze to her Professor's face.

He raised an eyebrow at her, and her cheeks heated further still, but she refused to look down in embarrassment.

"I just wanted to remind you of your detention tonight."

"I remember, Professor," Hermione said softly, but in a tone heavy with double meaning.

"Good," he said, seemingly satisfied with her answer. There were a few moments of tense silence, before Lupin suddenly observed, "I noticed you're wearing a new perfume."

Confused, Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that she actually wasn't wearing any perfume, much less something new, but before she could her Professor continued.

"I like it," he said huskily, easing himself off his desk and pushing himself towards her, invading her personal space. "It's," he paused significantly, and sniffed the air near her neck, "musky."

Realization dawned. He could smell her arousal. Of course he could, werewolves had highly overdeveloped senses. He had probably been smelling it on her all hour. No wonder he had looked so damned smug!

"You should wear it tonight," Lupin breathed against her neck, lightly grazing his nose against the sensitive area, making Hermione shiver.

"I- I will," Hermione stuttered, overwhelmed by his proximity.

Lupin pulled back abruptly. "Good," he said, his voice normal again, no longer husky. He moved further away from her, back behind his desk. "I'll expect you to. And I hope you'll remember what I'll expect you _no_t to be wearing."

He reached forward and opened one of his desk drawers, extracting from its depths the pair of white, cotton knickers that she had been wearing last night.

Hermione watched in fascination as her Professor twirled her knickers idly around one of his fingers. She could vividly recall the feeling of that finger slipping underneath those very knickers, just last night, as her Professor teased her mercilessly. Hermione could feel herself begin to sweat. The memory of that digit slipping inside her had her shifting uncomfortably as her panties became noticeably wet. She could almost feel the rough pad of his thumb as it circled her clit.

Professor Lupin was still twirling her knickers, watching her with a knowing look on his face. He was getting off on this, and the fact simultaneously turned her on and made her want to punch him in the face a bit. She was going to be miserably uncomfortable for the rest of the day, and Lupin knew it. In fact, he appeared to be reveling in it.

"It would certainly be unfortunate if I had to confiscate anymore of these pretty, little scraps," he said lowly, and then he raised her knickers to his face, and inhaled deeply.

_Oh. My. Merlin._ Absolutely mortified, Hermione turned and dashed from the room.

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><p>Hermione contemplated herself nervously in the shiny reflection of Professor Lupin's office door. She had been incredibly paranoid walking up here for her detention, certain that everyone she passed would be able to tell she wasn't wearing underwear. It was one thing to walk back to her common room at midnight sans knickers, because barely anyone was around at that time of night. But as of now it wasn't yet curfew, and she had passed plenty of people on the way up here. She had even been forced to endure an excruciatingly awkward conversation with Ernie Macmillan when she had run into the boy on the second floor. One simply should not have to talk to Hufflepuffs when one wasn't wearing any underwear.<p>

But here, standing in front of Professor Lupin's door, Hermione could admit that paranoia hadn't been the only reason she had almost worn knickers. The thought of Lupin punishing her for misbehavior when he found out she had disobeyed him wasn't an entirely unappealing one. In fact, the thought of what he might do to her was one that had her lower stomach tightening. But in the end, the fact that she really didn't want to loose anymore of her knickers had been the deciding factor.

Steeling herself, Hermione took a deep breath and knocked on her Professor's door.

"Come in," came the call from within, the same as it had the night before. Hermione wondered what was in store for her this time.

Slowly easing the door open, she cautiously edged inside. Professor Lupin was at his desk, calmly grading papers. When he heard her enter the room, he set down his eagle feather quill and motioned for her to come forward. Hermione approached him hesitantly, her eyes fixed firmly on the thick, burgundy carpet that coated the floor of his office. She was feeling extremely embarrassed over what had occurred this afternoon, and found herself unable to bring her eyes to her Professor's. If she looked at his face, all she would be able to see was him with her knickers pressed up against it. She still couldn't believe he had done that! Somehow, after everything that had happened with him last night, the fact that he had unabashedly brought her knickers to his face to smell them seemed the most embarrassing thing that had happened yet. Her face hadn't returned to a normal color until well after third period. Harry and Ron were both now absolutely convinced that she was ill. Hermione wasn't entirely convinced herself that she wasn't, in fact, suffering from some malady. A lust induced trauma perhaps?

"I'm glad to see you're wearing the perfume," Professor Lupin said, getting up from his desk and circling around it till he was standing behind her. Two bright pink spots appeared on Hermione's cheeks, whether from his proximity or his observation she wasn't sure. "Let's see how well you followed my other instructions. Lean forward."

Feeling somewhat mortified, but excited nonetheless, Hermione leaned forward. Was she in for another round like last night? Would he fuck her relentlessly against his desk once more? She tensed in anticipation. But all Professor Lupin did was lean down, peer up her skirt, and verify that she had indeed followed his second set of instructions.

"Good girl," said Lupin, patting her soundly on the rump before walking over and resuming his seat behind his desk.

Despite the fact that her Professor was treating her as though she were some vaguely intelligent animal that had behaved well, Hermione felt a jolt of pleasure at his patronizing words of praise.

"You may stand," Lupin said, and Hermione straightened up. She forced herself to meet her Professor's eyes, and found herself entranced by the look of potent lust that she found in them.

Crooking a finger at her, he motioned for her to come around to his side of the desk. On unsteady legs, Hermione made her way over to stand about a foot away from him. He spun his rather impressive black leather office chair around so that he was facing her.

"You've been very inattentive in my lessons lately, Hermione," he chided. "I think tonight you'll have to make it up to me. Show me how attentive you can be." He paused, and then said more sharply, "On your knees."

Hermione let out sharp intake of breath, before slowly sinking to the floor before her Professor. She stared at his crotch in a combination of nervousness and curiosity. It was clear what he expected her to do, but she had no idea how to go about this. Should she just reach out and touch him? That seemed too bold a move, and she couldn't bring herself to execute it. Should she use her hands? Her mouth? Both? She had never done this before. She was frozen with the idea of doing something wrong. For lack of ability to do anything else, Hermione simply stared at the ever growing bulge in the center of his trousers.

After what seemed like an eternity to Hermione, Professor Lupin leaned forward and began to undo…his shoelaces?

For perhaps the first time in her life, Hermione Granger was well and truly baffled.

Unable to stop herself she sputtered out, "Wh-what are you doing?"

Continuing to calmly remove his shoes, her Professor addressed her. "I wouldn't have expected such a question out of you, Hermione. You're usually very quick to pick up on the obvious," he said, tugging the shoe from his left foot. "I'm taking off my shoes."

"But…why?" Hermione asked, still mystified.

He shot her a glance, before moving on to work on his right shoe. "You're going to be giving me a foot massage. It gets very tiring being on my feet all day. And if you keep speaking without my permission, I'm going to get out my ruler and make that cute, little bottom of yours match your face in color."

Hermione immediately clamped her mouth shut, neglecting to mention that he had spent most of the seventh year DADA lesson sitting on top of his desk, not standing. She thought this comment would be unwise, especially given the bright, red mark that still adorned her arse as a reminder of last night. A foot massage? That was…different. Although, she was just as much of a novice at foot massages as she was at giving head. She supposed you just…rubbed?

Lupin had finished removing his shoes, having set them on top of his desk with his socks tucked neatly inside. He was now leaning back in his chair, peering at her expectantly. "Well, Miss Granger," he said, an ounce of irritation flashing in his voice, "I'm waiting."

Hermione sat back on her heels, and transferred her Professor's bare feet to her lap. She was pleased to note that they did not appear to stink, and that his toe nails were neatly clipped. Deciding that she might as well just dive right in, Hermione grasped his right foot and began to knead its sole. As she continued to work her thumbs against the rough pads of his foot, Lupin let out a content sigh. Apparently she was doing something right.

After spending a few more minutes on his right foot, Hermione switched her attentions to his left. She began giving it the same treatment as his other foot, listening intently for the pleasurable sounds her Professor made that let her know he liked what she was doing. When she kneaded a particularly sensitive spot just below his heel, and Lupin let out a low, guttural moan, Hermione found herself blushing. This wasn't exactly what she had pictured when she fantasized about being on her knees before her Professor, but John Travolta was right about one thing; there was something incredibly intimate about giving someone a foot massage. It was actually quite sensual in a way. As Hermione progressed further and further with the massage, discerning which spots would elicit that same guttural moan from her Professor, she became preoccupied with another area of his anatomy. It seemed Lupin agreed with her and John Travolta on the foot massage matter, because as she continued to work over his feet the bulge in his trousers was growing more and more pronounced.

She watched, gripped, as his member began to strain noticeably against the fabric constraining it. Unconsciously, Hermione's mouth began to water.

"Miss Granger, if you find yourself so fascinated by my cock, perhaps you'd like to demonstrate your attentiveness on it instead of my feet."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock, but feeling braver now that he had invited her, she reached out and first undid the buckle of her Professor's brown, leather belt. She then slid the button free of its hole. She was intensely aware of the sound of her own heavy breathing in the charged air. Slowly, very slowly, she dragged down the zipper that was the last remaining barrier between herself and her Professor's manhood.

As soon as it was able, Professor Lupin's cock sprang forth from his pants. It stood at attention, large and impressive under Hermione's awed gaze. Tentatively, Hermione reached forward and stroked it once up and down. It twitched in her hand, and experimentally Hermione stroked it again, faster this time. Lupin let out a groan, his head falling back against his chair. Hermione continued to pump up and down the length of his shaft, faster and faster as she gained confidence and found a rhythm that he seemed to enjoy. She reached forward with her other hand to lightly cup his balls, careful to be very gentle with them. Lupin's breathing was growing erratic, and Hermione found herself greatly enjoying the effect she was having on him. She could see a clear fluid beginning to leak out of his tip, and she found that she wanted to taste it. Leaning forward on her knees, she darted out her pink tongue and swiped it over his tip.

"Holy fuck," her Professor gasped, staring down at her with hooded, lust glazed eyes.

She had never heard him curse in such a way before, and she wanted to make him do it again. Determined, she leaned forward and languidly licked the length of him, swirling her tongue around his tip and then taking him full on in her mouth. She bobbed eagerly up and down on his cock, taking in varying amounts of him each time. She lapped at his tip, licking up every bit of moisture he released. Then Hermione took him as deep into her mouth as she could and moaned around his dick. The vibrations seemed to unhinge her Professor, because he growled primally and grasped the back of her head. He was now controlling her pace, guiding her mouth up and down around his cock. She continued to hum and suck frantically until she felt his cock jerk once more in her mouth, before releasing a spurt of hot, salty liquid. Hermione gulped quickly, swallowing every last bit of her Professor's cum before releasing him with a slight, wet pop.

They stared at each other, both flushed and panting. "You may go now, Miss Granger," Lupin said breathlessly, removing his hand from the back of her head. Hermione found that she missed the weight and warmth of it.

* * *

><p><strong>There you go, the obligatory blow job chapter, and also something in there for the foot fetishists out there. Points if you get the reference. Please review!<strong>


	3. Confessions

**WARNING: This story contains graphic sexual content and BDSM, read at your own discretion.**

* * *

><p>Spent, Hermione fell back against her mound of scarlet pillows and slowly withdrew her fingers from her sleep shorts. They glistened in the faint morning light. Hastily, she wiped her fingers on her sheets, and turned away from the evidence of her early morning debauchery. However, she found that the soft pants which still echoed around her chamber and the residual tingling between her thighs were a potent enough reminder of how she had just indulged herself. And at six o'clock in the morning no less!<p>

Not for the first time, Hermione found herself glad that Head students were afforded their own quarters. Her face burned at the mere thought of what Parvati and Lavender would have to say about her more recent nightly activities, which had now bled into the morning hours. There was no way her two gossipy, former roommates would have failed to notice the signs. It would doubtlessly have been all over the school by first period that the Head Girl was, in fact, just as human as everybody else. The great Hermione Granger masturbated and had sex dreams like any other normal teenager.

Not that she would ever have dared to masturbate back when she lived in her old dorm. Separated by a thick, tartan curtain and a silencing charm or not, Hermione didn't think she had the nerve to do something so personal when she knew that she wasn't alone. She felt self-conscious enough pleasuring herself up here in her Head Dorm, where it was very unlikely that she would ever be disturbed.

Hermione was hit with a sudden, horrifying vision of Professor McGonagall bursting into her room with urgent Head business just as she was about to climax, Professor Lupin's name on the tip of her tongue. Hermione shuddered, and not from pleasure. Well, now she knew what her boggart would turn into the next time she encountered one. With these supremely disturbing thoughts floating around her head, Hermione dragged herself from bed and into the shower.

* * *

><p>Seventh year Gryffindor's didn't have a DADA class on Wednesdays, and without the anticipation of seeing Lupin hanging over her, Hermione found that she was able to have a relatively normal day. The reminder of her coming detention lingered in the back of her mind, but she found herself occupied with a fascinating runes translation for most of the morning, and the afternoon Herbology lesson had taken quite an interesting turn when Seamus Finnigan was almost swallowed whole by a particularly vicious plant. So all in all Hermione hadn't had much time to dwell on Professor Lupin or what awaited her that night in his office. It wasn't until precisely 8:45 pm that the heady mix of nerves and anticipation began to swirl around in her head. Despite the chill of the drafty Hogwarts castle in mid-November, Hermione was flushed by the time she arrived at her Professor's door for the third consecutive night.<p>

Once she had knocked and been granted permission to enter, Hermione made her way into his tidy office. She had barely shut the door behind her when Professor Lupin, standing before his desk, issued his first order of the night without so much as a cursory greeting to her.

"Take off your clothes," he said, and it was the closest to a growl that she had ever heard his voice. Startled and somewhat apprehensive, Hermione stared at her Professor.

"A-all of them, Sir?" she questioned hesitantly. As much as she had done with Lupin the previous two nights, he had never before seen her completely naked. She felt incredibly self-conscious at the thought of baring her body completely for his judgment. He had never even seen her breasts!

"Yes, Miss Granger, all of them," he said, leaving no room for argument. He simply stared sternly at her, arms folded across his chest, waiting for her to disrobe.

Gulping, she shifted her long mess of hair behind her shoulder and brought a shaky hand to the top button of her crisp, white blouse. With her fingers shaking as they were, it was hard for her to maneuver the small buttons through their holes. She became increasingly nervous that Lupin was going to lunge for her and just rip damn thing off, but her Professor seemed content to simply watch as she continued to struggle with the buttons of her school issued blouse. Her fingers felt immeasurably clumsy and stiff all of a sudden. Hermione bit her lip in concentration in order to work to undue the buttons. Once she had finally completed this arduous task, her blouse flapped open, revealing a sliver of her pale, flat stomach and the peak her breasts made from being pushed together by her bra. She nervously slid out of her blouse, letting it drop soundlessly to floor. Lupin stared hungrily at her bared breasts, which were now encased only by a sheer, lace bra of the barest pink. She was about to raise her hands to undue the back clasp when she caught sight of her blouse lying rumpled on the floor. Something about it nagged at her, and she stooped to pick it up, folding it neatly before setting it on Professor Lupin's desk. Unbeknownst to her, Lupin suppressed an affectionate smile at her OCD inspired behavior. When she turned to face him once more, he was looking at her with the hard expression a disciplinarian.

Hermione once again reached for the clasp on her bra, but Lupin held up a hand to still her.

"Leave that on for now," he instructed. So she wouldn't have to bare her breasts to him just yet after all, Hermione mused. She found herself oddly disappointed. Did he not want to see them? Were they unsatisfactory in some way? She had medium sized, C-cup breasts, but perhaps they seemed inadequate to her Professor. Did they disappoint him?

"Continue," he said, when she had paused a bit too long in her self conscious contemplation of her own body.

Hermione's breath hitched, and it felt as though a round ball of heat was expanding in her stomach. This was what she was most nervous for. Per Lupin's orders, she was wearing nothing beneath her uniform skirt. There were no knickers she would be permitted to keep on. He would be seeing all of her. Not that he hadn't before, but something about this was different. This wasn't during the act of sex. This wasn't her bent over his desk facing away from him. This would be her standing before him, completely nude from the waist down, and something about that made her feel very vulnerable. Hermione took a deep breath, and reached for the zipper on the side of her skirt. She tugged it down slowly, feeling the cool teeth scrape against her skin. Once she was all the way unzipped, Hermione shimmied in order to dislodge the material from her hips. Her skirt slipped down her legs with a quiet wisp to pool at her feet. Hermione bit her lip as Lupin appraised her. His eyes were glued to her naked sex, and she blushed under his gaze. His face didn't give much away, but she could see the lust building in his eyes. Finally, still focused intently on her most private area, Lupin spoke again, his voice very rough.

"Leave on your shoes and socks."

Hermione glanced down at her gray knee socks, and shiny, black mary-janes, mystified as to why her Professor wanted her to leave them on. Nevertheless, she would obey his order.

She now stood awkwardly before him (almost) naked while he was fully clothed. Something about this contrast excited her. She was, once again, completely at his mercy. Completely vulnerable to his wishes, his every command.

"Sit." Professor Lupin instructed, gesturing to stiff looking chair that Hermione hadn't noticed before. It was plain, but made of dark, rich wood with a high back and no arms. Obligingly, Hermione sat, the hard seat of the chair feeling uncomfortable and shockingly cool beneath her bare bottom.

Lupin gave her a look that clearly implied she wasn't to move, and left through a back doorway, the one that presumably led to his living quarters. Hermione craned her neck in an effort to see up the winding staircase, curious to see how her Professor lived, but otherwise remained still. Eventually she gave up on seeing anything beyond the stairs, and settled back onto the chair. Hermione was poised tensely on the edge of her seat as she awaited her Professor's return. He reemerged shortly, carrying in his hand three ties. One was obviously a Gryffindor tie (perhaps one of his old ones from school?), adorned with the telling gold and scarlet stripes. Of the other two, one was a pattern of cool blues and the other a plain, deep red. Hermione raised her eyebrows, wondering what he intended to do with these accessories. Without a word, he advanced on her and circled around to the back of her chair.

Grabbing her wrists forcibly, Lupin tugged them roughly behind the chair and held them together there. He encircled them with a tie, and with a decisive knot bound her wrists tightly together. Not so tight as to cut off her circulation, but tight enough where she was unable to move her hands and could feel the cool fabric of the tie digging harshly into her skin. Hermione attempted to pry her hands apart, and succeeded only in scraping her delicate arms against the sides of the chair. Her arms were strained in a way that tugged at her muscles, and while not exactly painful, it was certainly an uncomfortable position. Lupin stood in front of her once more, watching amusedly as she struggled with the tie that bound her wrists together.

"Now, now, Miss Granger. None of that. You're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

At those words, a rush of liquid heat flooded her center, and Hermione nodded, ceasing her efforts to move her hands. There was something about being physically tied up the muggle way, rather than just being restrained by magic, that made the experience much more erotic. It was more primal somehow, and in Hermione it triggered a visceral reaction that had her body flushing hotly, the tinge of pink spreading over her breasts and lower. Lupin watched her for a while, seeming to revel in her nakedness and physical reaction to him. He then knelt before her, and eased apart her legs, prompting an even deeper blush from the young witch. He positioned each of her legs so that they aligned with one of the legs of the chair. When Professor Lupin removed his hands from her to reach for his ties, Hermione had to struggle valiantly not to bring her legs together. This would surely result in dire consequences, but Hermione was embarrassed to be spread so before him; embarrassed to have his effect on her so clearly evidenced in the wetness leaking steadily from her center. Her struggle soon ended however, as Lupin secured first one of her legs, then the other, to the chair with his remaining ties. She was locked in position.

Professor Lupin gave one of her thighs a squeeze and then returned to his desk. He bustled around for a few minutes, messing about with saucers and cups and his wand. Bizarrely, he seemed to be making tea. Hermione couldn't imagine that he had tied her up like this, her arms pulled behind her back, her chest thrust out, and her legs spread so wantonly, to have tea with her. As a rule, Hermione didn't drink tea. She'd had rather a fondness for it when she was younger, but found that her experiences with Professor Trelawney and divination had forever put her off the stuff.

As if sensing her dismay, Lupin, who was now adding liberal amounts of cream to the steaming hot beverage, offered forth and explanation. "I've spiked this tea with an intriguing substance that's just been developed by Fred and George Weasley. As a Marauder, I have first access to all their products, and they were only too happy to issue me some of this. It's a bit like veritserum, but less potent and less illegal. At the moment anyway," he paused, and let out a laugh. "It doesn't force you to tell the truth, but it makes the imbiber quite loquacious." Hermione was suddenly feeling very apprehensive about where this was going.

"You've been very distracted in my classes lately, Hermione. And I intend to find out why. I thought this would be the perfect tool with which to question you." His voice was low as he spoke, an element of danger in it.

Hermione could feel herself breaking out in a sweat, and it wasn't because of the steam from the tea. There was not a single, logical way that this could result in anything but deep embarrassment on her part. At the same time, there was something compelling her to take the tea, to make herself even more vulnerable to Lupin.

He walked out from behind his desk, moving carefully so as not to spill any tea from the brimming cup. As he loomed closer, Hermione found herself opening her mouth unbidden. Professor Lupin pressed the saucer to her lips and tilted it back. Hot liquid rushed down her throat, and Hermione gulped quickly to keep up with the steady flow of tea from the saucer to her mouth. When she had drained the cup, Lupin stepped back and set the saucer on his desk before settling himself onto the edge of it.

At first, Hermione felt no different, and then a peculiar feeling began to come over her. She felt very light suddenly, but her mind seemed unaffected.

"So, Miss Granger, why have you been so distracted lately?" Lupin asked, even though he clearly already knew the answer (smug bastard). Hermione was of a half a mind to tell him this when, without her consent, the word, "You." popped out of her traitorous mouth.

"Me?" asked Lupin, feigning surprise.

"Yes," Hermione said. This wasn't so bad actually. It wasn't as if she was confessing anything he didn't already know.

"Why?" Inquired her Professor.

"I- I-, you're very handsome," she said honestly, and Lupin smiled gently. Not a smirk, but a smile, a real smile. It looked nice on him. "And you're smart, and articulate, and I like the sound of your voice -" the potion would have made her go on and on till she revealed every innocuous detail that drew her to him, but her Professor interrupted her stream of consciousness.

"My voice? Really?" asked Lupin, seeming genuinely curious.

"Yes, it's very pleasant," she blushed lightly and looked down. "And since Monday night I can't help but imagine you commanding me with it. Your voice becomes harsher and sterner when you command me and it's very…alluring."

Ah, there was the smirk. "So when you're off in your own world during class you're fantasizing about me." he stated more than asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back cockily on his desk. He made an infuriatingly attractive picture.

"Yes," said Hermione huskily.

"I see. And what exactly do these fantasies entail?"

"Sometimes I imagine that you can tell exactly what I'm thinking. That you call me to the front of the room and order me to bend over your desk in front of everyone. That you spank me repeatedly and tell them all what a bad girl I've been."

Hermione ended her confession in a humiliated whisper. She was deeply embarrassed, and blushing more than ever now.

"And that kind of exhibition excites you?" Lupin murmured.

Hermione nodded shakily, staring down at her spread, naked thighs in shame and embarrassment.

_**THWACK**_

Out of nowhere, a swift, sharp blow was delivered to the top of her thighs by Lupin's wooden ruler. Hermione gasped out loud in shock and pain. Hot, stinging pricks spread over her thighs were she had been struck. Before Hermione could even begin to process what had happened, the point of the ruler was being thrust under her chin, forcing it up, forcing Hermione to meet her Professor's gaze. His eyes were hard.

"Miss Granger, you will answer me when I ask you a question, and you will look at me when I'm talking to you," he ordered harshly. "Is that clear?"

"Very, Professor." Hermione said tightly, tears of pain stinging the backs of her eyes.

Professor Lupin lowered his ruler and placed it beside him on his desk.

"Good," he paused and assessed her with discerning eyes. "Do you like it when I discipline you Hermione?" he asked softly, circling around her chair till he was behind her, whispering hotly in her ear.

"Do you like it when I'm," he forcibly pulled down her bra, exposing her nipples and the top half of her breasts, "rough with you?" he growled sensuously, tweaking one of her nipples to punctuate this statement.

Hermione arched back against the chair, raising her newly exposed nipples before him like an offering. "Yes," she gasped, "Yes!"

Lupin continued to tease her, viciously tweaking her nipples so that the sensation straddled the border between pleasure and pain. And then suddenly he was severing her bra straps and wrenching the garment from her body. Hermione gasped, marveling at his strength. Her Professor flung the pink, lacy scrap carelessly to the floor before reaching forward and grasping her breasts. He seemed to be weighing them in his hands. He gave a hum of satisfaction, and then began kneading her breasts and playing with her nipples once more, flicking and circling the taut buds which had long ago come to stand at attention. Hermione strained against her bonds, trying mindlessly to move her thighs together, but it was a futile effort. She couldn't move an inch, and her thighs quivered from unfulfilled lust and the need for friction.

"Do you wish I was touching your pussy, Hermione?" Professor Lupin breathed into her ear.

"Yes," she moaned, long and drawn out. "Yes, god - please touch me!"

"You're so dripping wet for me my fingers would slide right into your tight little hole. Would you like that Hermione?" He continued to knead her breasts, flicking and pinching her nipples the way she desperately wished he would her clit.

"Yes, Professor, please!" she begged, arching against her bonds to the point of pain, but Lupin was merciless.

"Do you ever touch yourself, Hermione?" he asked against her neck, licking it. "Do you think about me and fuck yourself with your fingers, imagining that they're mine?"

"Yes!" Hermione cried

Lupin lowered his hands from her breasts to her stomach, drawing small circles with his thumbs just below her hips, teasing her tortuously. He dragged his fingers across her bikini line, making her buck and jerk against her restraints. And then his hands vanished completely. Hermione was delirious with lust and confusion, and it took her a few seconds to put together what had happened. Lupin had resumed his place in front of her, and was now taking himself out of his trousers. His member came free, and he took it in his hands, beginning to stroke up and down his shaft. He moaned softly, staring right into her frenzied eyes as he began to pump faster and faster.

She was…she was…she couldn't believe this. How could he sit there in front of her, getting himself off when she was right there, consumed with need? An eager vessel begging to receive him? Pre-cum began to leak copiously from his tip and Hermione licked her lips unconsciously.

"Do you want my cock, Hermione? Do you want to take me in your filthy, hot, little mouth and suck me off like the eager slut you are?"

Hermione was distantly infuriated that she had just been called a slut, but she was so crazed with lust, and so desperate for any contact at all with her Professor's anatomy that she moaned an affirmative, nodding frantically.

"Yes! Please! Please - so bad - I want your cock - so bad!"

"What do you want?"

"You! In my mouth! Please, Professor, please!" cried Hermione.

At last, Lupin stood and walked toward her. He stood before her chair and guided his erect manhood into her eagerly awaiting mouth. As soon as he made contact, Hermione took him as deep as she could within her mouth, and began sucking and swirling her tongue around him. She moaned around his cock in dual pleasure and wanting. It didn't take long before her Professor came in her mouth with a shudder. She swallowed the slightly salty mixture as quickly as she could, but some leaked from her mouth, trailing down the side of her face. Lupin, whose eyes where shut in blissful release, didn't appear to notice. He eventually opened his normally tawny orbs, now a darker shade of caramel, to peer at her with hazy, lust clouded eyes. He smiled dopily at her (in a way she would have found very endearing if he hadn't been torturing her all night), and withdrew his member from her mouth. It dragged against her cheek as he removed it, decorating her face with more of his juices. Breathing roughly, Lupin sat back heavily on his desk. While her Professor continued to ride out his post-orgasm high, Hermione concentrated on trying to regulate her breathing and calm herself down. After approximately five minutes she managed to get something of a hold on herself. She was still aroused, but not to the point of borderline madness.

Hermione focused once more on her Professor, and found her eyes widening in shock. Unbelievably enough, he was stroking himself and appeared to be getting hard all over again. She didn't know men his age were supposed to have that kind of stamina! It was close to the full moon though, and she had read that werewolves' sexuality was greatly heightened around that time of the month (a fact that had mortified her third year self). Yes, he was most definitely hard again. Dear Merlin.

Lupin continued to stare at her and lazily stroke himself. "You have lovely breasts," he remarked, fixing his eyes on them.

Hermione stammered out a thank you, unsure how to take this comment in light of everything else. Her Professor was gazing almost reverentially at her chest, leaning forward as if captivated by her tits. Perhaps it was true what Ron said, and they did indeed have powers. They certainly seem to have some kind of hold on Professor Lupin. He stood and walked towards her, his erect cock pointing at her like a homing device. Once he was quite close, he knelt before her on the floor and tipped forward until he was poised inches away from her cleavage. Grabbing hold of her breasts, he lifted them to his face and began nuzzling into him. For some reason, especially regarding past behavior, Hermione found this absurdly sweet, and a warm, pleasant feeling began to blossom renewed in her stomach. She had the urge to reach out and stroke his hair as he continued to burry himself among her breasts, but of course she couldn't, restrained as she was. He seemed to be drunk on his orgasm. Her Professor was acting like acting like a sleepy, overgrown puppy (wolf pup?) and she was utterly charmed by the adorableness of it.

When he finally emerged from the depths of her bosom, he leaned forward and kissed her right on the mouth. Hermione bit back a gasp of surprise. He had never done that before! Standing up somewhat unsteadily, Lupin moved closer to her still. He stood so that his cock was poised just below the center of her breasts. Hermione peered up at him, eyes wide in an unasked question. In answer, her Professor smiled wickedly before grasping her breasts and beginning to thrust his cock between them. It was, frankly, a weird sensation. Not unpleasant or anything, but it certainly did nothing for Hermione physically. Emotionally, she was quite content to let Professor Lupin do as he wished, however bizarre the act seemed. He began to thrust more and more frantically, the sounds of his pants and grunts filling the small office. With a low moan of completion, her professor found his finish. The hot, spurt of his cum splattered across Hermione's stomach, and she couldn't hold in her gasp of surprise this time.

Lupin shot her a lopsided smile. "Do you like my cum all over your body, love?" he asked.

Hermione simply did not know how to respond to that question. "I- I -"

"Mmm," mumbled Lupin, absently tucking himself back into his trousers and making his way over to his desk. He flicked his wand, and Hermione found that her restraints banished. She flexed her arms experimentally. Merlin, were they stiff.

"Shower's upstairs if you need it, love," Lupin offered around a yawn.

Hermione quickly gathered her clothes, including her ruined bra (Pity. It was quite pretty, if indeed a bit frivolous.) and scurried up the stairs.

* * *

><p>To snoop or not to snoop, that was the question. There were two doors on the upstairs landing; one marked 'bathroom', and another one which obviously led to her Professor's living quarters.<p>

Hermione had always been insatiably curious, sometimes to her detriment, but mostly to her advantage. Therefore, it was not surprising that she found herself tempted to peek. In the end though, she thought it would be rather obvious she had been prodding around in his room if she were to drip cum all over the floor. Besides, her thoughts were muddled enough as it was. She didn't need anything else to consider at the moment. Hermione pushed open the door to the bathroom.

It was done in navy and white. The tiles of the floor were an alternating diamond pattern of the two colours, and Hermione was pleased to note that the rugs were navy. She found the idea of white rugs ridiculous and impractical. It was a clean room (naturally, what with House-Elves to maintain it), sparse even, and Hermione found it had a distinctly masculine feel to it. Navy towels, embroidered with a single white stripe were laid out neatly on either side of the ivory sink. Sat on top of them were instruments for shaving. An electric shaver would go haywire around magic, so wizards always shaved manually. To Hermione there was something appealing about the ritual. Perhaps it came from all the mornings of sitting on the sink beside her father, watching him lather up and meticulously shave his face before work.

Hermione would have felt uncomfortable just chucking her clothes on the floor, and so instead folded them and placed them in a neat pile on the sink. Plucking two fluffy, white towels from the door of the closet, where they hung on hooks, Hermione made her way to the shower. Slinging the towels over the edge of the opaque, glass door before easing it open, she slipped into the shower.

Damp, and smelling of the mildly spicy scent that always clung to Professor Lupin, Hermione tiptoed quietly down the stairs.

When she reentered his office, she found Lupin slumped over his desk with his head pillowed in his arms. He was fast asleep. As Hermione crept closer, she became aware of the soft snores issuing from her Professor. She stopped and peered at him. It was an interesting phenomena how people always seemed to look younger in their sleep. More innocent, more at peace. She thought it probably had something to do with how ones facial muscles relaxed during slumber. Sleep; A brief respite from the harshness of life. Lupin could surely use it. Without thinking about it, Hermione reached out and smoothed her Professor's hair back from his forehead. It was surprisingly soft, especially given that two in one shampoo/conditioner he was using. Hesitating briefly, Hermione darted a nervous glance around the now dark office. Gathering all her nerve, she bent down and planted a quick kiss on her Professor's forehead.

"Goodnight….Remus."

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><p><strong>AN: I'm super tired, so sorry for any spelling or grammar errors. Let me know in reviews if you find any, but please review anyway if you don't. And don't worry, Remus will make up for not satisfying Hermione next chap. It'll be all about her, lucky girl. Poor JK, the things I do to her characters.<strong>


	4. Punishment

**AN: Sorry the chap's a little later than usual, I've been really sick. Hope you like.**

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><p>"So I dive to the left and barely manage to snatch the quaffle out of the air by tips of my fingers!"<p>

"That's nice, Ron," said Hermione absently.

"Nice!" sputtered Ron, leaping from the sofa. "It was more than nice, Hermione, it was bloody miraculous! Monumental even!"

"Yeah, mate, it was brilliant." said Harry, clapping Ron heartily on the back. "Play like that in the match on Saturday and we're golden!"

At the reminder of the upcoming match, Ron's bravado vanished abruptly and he began to look somewhat sick. Hermione however, was too absorbed in her own turbulent thoughts to pay much mind to her friend's distress.

"What's that you've got there anyway," asked Ron, peering curiously into Hermione's lap, perhaps in a effort to distract himself from his pre-game jitters. A look of burgeoning horror dawned on his face once he saw what was there.

"Oh, god," he said dramatically. "Don't tell me you've taken up Spew again? You know the only one dodgy enough to take your hats is Dobby, and that's only 'cause he's right mad, that one."

The clicking of Hermione's knitting needles increased furiously, sounding rather ominously to Ron like the clicking of an Acromantula's pincers.

"For your information Ronald, it's not a hat, it is a scarf," Hermione bit out, continuing to knit at a feverish pace. "And for the last time it's S.P.E.W.!"

"So you _are _starting it up again?" asked Ron, looking horror stricken at the very thought.

"No I am not," Hermione explained tightly. "Actually, I'm knitting this as a gift for someone."

"Oh," said Ron, suddenly smiling as an idea occurred to him. "Is it me?"

"No," said Hermione flatly.

"Mate, if it was for you before it isn't now," said Harry laughingly.

"Well, who's it for then?"

"If you must know, it's for Professor Lupin."

"Lupin," said Ron incredulously. "What's he need a hat for?"

Hermione glared.

"Sorry, a scarf," Ron amended hastily. "You can't blame me Hermione!" he protested defensively when she continued to glare. "It's hard to tell what it is when it's all lumpy like that."

Hermione sighed. "I just thought it would be nice," she muttered. "What with the full moon coming up."

"Oh yeah, when is that?" asked Harry.

"Tomorrow night," said Hermione quietly, focusing intently on her knitting.

"Poor bloke," said Ron sympathetically. "Think he'll make the match?"

As Harry and Ron lost themselves in an intense discussion on Quidditch strategy, Hermione found herself drifting off into her own thoughts.

She wondered if Remus (Professor Lupin, she reminded herself sternly) would be able to come out for the match on Saturday or if he would still be recovering from his monthly ordeal. It was such a horrible situation. The man was forced to tear himself apart once a month, and then on top of everything else had to deal with the hate and bigotry of the wizarding community at large. It just wasn't fair, Hermione thought to herself bitterly. But as she had learned many times over, life wasn't fair. There shouldn't be mass enslavement of House-Elves, she shouldn't be scorned for having muggle parents, Harry's parents should still be alive, and werewolves shouldn't be reviled and mistreated the way they were. But that was simply the way it was, and sometimes Hermione lost hope that she would ever be able to change anything. So now she was making Remus a scarf. And maybe in some small way that would help. Or maybe Ron was right and it was a preposterously stupid idea. She held up her half finished scarf and examined it critically. Perhaps it was a tad lumpy in places, but overall Hermione thought she had improved a great deal since her fifth year. Besides, she could always fix the lumpy bits by magic once she was finished knitting it. It would be warm at least, and she thought the deep, red and gray colors would suit her Professor well.

But were they really in the type of relationship where it would be appropriate to knit him a scarf? Well, obviously Hermione had been doing many inappropriate things with her Professor lately, but this was of a different nature. Maybe Remus (Professor Lupin, Professor Lupin, she had to get that through her head) would think she was being a silly, sentimental little twit. But Hermione couldn't help but feel tender towards him. Despite their bed antics (or perhaps more appropriately, desk antics) Hermione knew that her Professor was about the sweetest man alive. He was caring, and smart, and utterly adorable at times, not to mention dead sexy. Hermione groaned. She was in way over her head here. Glancing up and seeing the time, Hermione carefully placed the unfinished scarf inside her bag and stood.

"I've got my detention," she explained to Harry and Ron, interrupting their talk of Quidditch.

"Going to give Lupin the scarf?" Ron asked would be casually. It was obvious he was seconds away from bursting into laughter.

"It's not finished yet," Hermione huffed, feeling more insecure then ever about her gift now. She turned to go, waving goodbye to the boys.

"Honestly," she heard Ron say to Harry as she was exiting through the portrait, "the man puts her in detention and she makes him a scarf!"

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><p>"Come in." came the call from inside the office. Hermione, who had been nervously flattening her hair (as if that wasn't a completely hopeless case) took a deep breath and entered her Professor's domain.<p>

He was looking a bit worn, but still very handsome, and standing beside his desk waiting for her.

"Good evening, Professor," Hermione said demurely. While she had started referring to him as Remus in her head, in this environment it somehow seemed inappropriate to think of him as anything but her Professor.

"Hello, Miss Granger." He nodded at her in greeting and smiled, gesturing for her to bend over his desk, presumably so he could ascertain if she was wearing knickers.

Hermione's eyes widened in sudden panic. "_Gobshite_!" she hissed furiously under her breath.

Lupin raised an eyebrow at her in curiosity and possibly a hint of amusement. "Is everything all right, Miss Granger?" he asked.

"Yes, Professor. Everything's fine," Hermione replied, but there was an edge of hysteria in her voice. She was still wearing her knickers. How could she have forgotten to take them off before coming to her detention?

"Well, then kindly bend over my desk, Miss Granger, before I make you" Professor Lupin instructed her, waiting expectantly for her to do as he commanded.

Hermione felt as if a hyperactive pygmy puff was jumping about erratically in her stomach, she was so nervous. Her whole body was flushed. What would he do when he discovered that she was wearing knickers? It had been an honest mistake on her part, but she didn't think that would matter to him. Doubtlessly he would still punish her for her misbehavior. Hermione found herself tingling all over with nervous excitement. Slowly, she walked towards his desk and braced her arms against it. She simply stood there for a few seconds, biting her lip, before hesitantly leaning forward.

For an inordinate amount of time he just stared. It was as if Hermione could feel her Professor's gaze burning into her offending undergarment. She gulped.

"Miss Granger, you seem to have forgotten something this evening," Lupin finally observed in a deadly soft voice. "Do you make it a habit of forgetting my orders, or do you flout them on purpose?"

He reached forward and dragged his finger under the seam of her knickers on her left butt cheek before pulling it taut and snapping it against her skin. Hermione gasped, partly from the sudden contact and partly from his accusation.

"No!" she protested vehemently. "I just - I just…forgot," she finished lamely.

"Nevertheless, I'm afraid you'll have be punished. Maybe that will improve your memory."

"Yes, Professor," Hermione whispered.

"Get up!" he barked, giving her a slap on her knicker clad bum to punctuate this command. His sternness with her was inadvertently turning her on.

Hermione stood and watched wearily as her Professor circled around to the other side of his desk and took a seat in his large, armless, black leather office chair. She was very curious about what he was doing and how it would pertain to her punishment, but she dared not ask. Once her Professor had situated himself he motioned for her to come around the desk and stand before him. Hermione did, staring meekly at the ground but darting little glances at her Professor when she thought he might not be looking. He caught her every time, causing her to blush furiously and resume studying her shoes. They really could use a polishing up…

"Look at _me_, Miss Granger," Lupin instructed, and Hermione dragged her reluctant eyes to his.

"You've been a very naughty girl," he accused, his voice sinfully low, causing Hermione's lower stomach to flutter.

"Yes, Sir," she admitted.

"Come here," he ordered, patting his lap. Hermione approached him cautiously, unsure of what he wanted her to do. Her Professor soon cleared it up.

"Lay down over my lap," Hermione's eyes widened minutely. He was going to bend her over his knee and spank her like a little child. Taking a deep breath, Hermione did as she was told, easing herself down over her Professor's lap. Tendrils of long, bushy hair dangled to the floor, and blood began to rush to her head. She shifted forward and felt a tell tale bulge digging into her stomach. Without warning, her knickers were suddenly wrenched down to the vicinity of her kneecaps. Hermione gasped at the sudden sensation. Her Professor began caressing her buttock, kneading it almost as if he were giving her a massage. Hermione sighed and arched in her pleasure, and that was when he delivered the first blow. It came hard, fast, and sharp, and then it happened again. He spanked her over and over, causing Hermione to jerk on his lap from the frequent blows. This was somehow much more humiliating than being spanked when bent over a desk, and Hermione bit her lip to keep from crying out. Despite herself, she could feel wetness gathering between her thighs as her punishment continued. After a few minutes, the blows stopped coming and only the sound of their ragged breathing filled the small room.

"Get up," her Professor said finally, sounding very composed. Hermione stood on shaky legs and her knickers fell down around her ankles. She bent to remove them completely.

"Miss Granger, what do you think you are doing?" Lupin demanded, and it was clear she had acted in a way that displeased him, though she couldn't fathom what she had possibly done wrong now.

Hermione peered up at him questioningly. "Taking off my knickers, Professor," she explained earnestly.

"Did I say you could do that?"

"N-no," Hermione stuttered, stilling in the process of stepping out of her knickers.

"Then don't. You will not continue to disobey me, Miss Granger. If you're so intent on wearing your knickers, you can keep them on all night."

Hermione hung her head, "Yes, Professor."

"Now sit," he said, gesturing towards a student desk where parchment, ink and a quill were set out.

Was he actually going to have her do lines? Lupin stared at her impatiently. Constricted by the knickers that still adorned her ankles, Hermione hobbled to the desk, humiliated.

"Apparently I have not managed to make myself clear to you, so in order to get my expectations through your pretty, little head you will be writing 'I must obey my Professor'."

Hermione repressed a sigh. "How many times, Professor?"

"Until I permit you to stop. Under no circumstances are you to stop writing unless I tell you to. Is that understood, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Sir," she replied, picking up the quill and dipping it into the stark, black ink. She began to write her line, 'I must obey my Professor' in her neat, steady handwriting. At first, Lupin just watched her at her task, but after a few minutes he stood from his desk and walked over to stand behind her. He peered over her shoulder, watching her write. His presence behind her was imposing and made her distracted and nervous. Merlin, he smelt good, Hermione thought as she inhaled deeply, unabashedly smelling him. He smelt of spices, parchment, and just a hint of chocolate. Hermione moaned softly at this intoxicating combination. His scent was beginning to make her feel heady. He was like a drug to her, and when inhaled he had mind spinning effects.

He moved her hair to the side, prompting a quick intake of breath from Hermione, and bent down lower to speak against her neck. His soft lips ghosted over her sensitive skin. "Do I smell good?"

"Yes," Hermione breathed out faintly. He was suddenly making it very hard for her to concentrate on her lines. So that was the game he would play with her tonight. With a new determination, Hermione attempted to ignore her Professor, whose lips were still held enticingly against her neck, and apply herself to her lines. But it seemed her Professor would make an effort to distract her. He began sucking lazily on the side of her neck, laving his tongue over the area, and then sucking hard again. Hermione moaned softly and unconsciously tilted her head to the side, providing better access to her tender neck. Lupin continued to play, nipping at her neck and dragging his teeth up the side of it. Hermione smudged an 'o'. Revisiting the area on her neck where he had marked her as his, something that excited Hermione on a primal level, even if it would be a pain to cover up in the morning, he swirled his tongue over the fresh hickey. Hermione wasn't quite successful in holding in her moan, and she could feel Lupin smirk against her neck before he stood again, still looming behind her. He reached out and began to massage her shoulders, gradually dipping his hands lower and lower till they had crept down to her breasts. Hermione gasped as he held their weight possessively in his large hands, squeezing and massaging them as if they were favored playthings. She struggled to keep on writing. Her breathing had sped up, but she had slowed down drastically in penning her lines. She had been working on one 'obey' for about five minutes now. Lupin continued to massage her breasts, seeming to take pleasure anytime Hermione was unable to hold back her moans.

Suddenly he tore open the buttons of her blouse with a series of pops. Hermione jerked in surprise, almost upending the ink bottle and Lupin chuckled.

"Be careful Miss Granger, or I'll make you clean it all up," he told her teasingly, before growing stern again, "Keep writing."

He began circling her nipples through the lace of her bra, flicking and pinching them into hardness. Hermione found her usually neat writing growing more and more shaky, almost to the point of illegibility. His hands began dancing over her stomach, making her abdomen ripple as he traced nonsense on it with his fingers, which were wet from his mouth. The air felt cool on the designs he had traced on her stomach. His hands ventured lower and he slid his fingers just under the top of her skirt, dragging them across her bikini line and making her gasp and jerk forward, almost upending the ink bottle again. He did this a few times, and Hermione's breathing grew ragged as she struggled to continue writing and hold in her gasps and moans. Dipping his fingers further under her skirt he began tracing the lines that formed the 'v' of her pelvis. Hermione was on the edge of reason now, panting as she struggled valiantly not to move into his hands. How desperately she wished he would move them to her center. Just as she was thinking she would go mad if he didn't either stop or do something more, her Professor withdrew his hands from her skirt and stepped back. He circled around till he was standing in front of her. The move felt predatory, as if she was his prey and he was examining her before going in for the kill.

Staring intently into her eyes, her Professor dropped to his knees before her. Hermione gasped. What was he doing? Bending forward, he helped her step out of her forgotten knickers and then flung them across the room. Hermione had the feeling she wouldn't be getting them back. She should really send the man a bill given the amount of her clothing he had either destroyed or stolen. He began to ease apart her legs, and Hermione abandoned all pretense of trying to write her lines. Rubbing his hands up and down her calves he spread them further, and then bent forward and laid a kiss on her knee cap. Hermione about melted into a pile of goo. He began lavishing kisses on her thighs, pausing to lick and suck at different ventures as he inched higher. Switching his attentions to her other thigh, he swirled his tongue tantalizingly on her skin, inches from her pussy and sucked hard enough to mark her. Hermione was panting now. She could guess what he was about to do, and her stomach was bubbling with nerves. The thought of him tasting her, of his face against her, was mortifying, but she was also curious. He licked closer and closer till he was at the edges of her center. Hermione gasped as he nudged his nose between her lower lips.

"You smell…so good," he panted. "I want to taste you."

And then he was. His tongue darted forward and licked between her folds. Hermione gasped and bucked into him, having no time to be embarrassed by her automatic reaction. He continued to explore her with his tongue, licking around and between her folds. Her Professor swirled his tongue around her tight, little bundle of nerves and Hermione screamed her pleasure. Sucking hard at the bud and then circling it with his tongue, he made her feel sensations she never had before. Hermione gripped his head tightly with her thighs, holding him against her. When he took her clit in his mouth the feeling was mind blowing, and Hermione bucked into him uncontrollably. He continued to play with her clit, sucking it hard and then licking around it, before he ventured lower and thrust his tongue inside her. Hermione cried out in shock and pleasure. His tongue was inside her! He thrust it into her in imitation of another organ, but the feeling was so different. Hermione groaned and bucked against his face as he swirled his tongue inside her. As he tongue fucked her, he reached down to tease her clit with his fingers, pinching and circling it wildly, driving Hermione mad with pleasure. When he removed his tongue from her body and once again sucked hard at her clit that was the end of it for Hermione. She came explosively.

"Oh, god!…Remus - I, oh, god!" she screamed. Lost in her pleasure, Hermione didn't even notice that she had slipped and called her Professor by his given name. She was too far gone. Her Professor, however, did notice. Hermione fell back sweaty and panting against the desk chair. The ink bottle had been knocked to the floor by her wild bucking, but had apparently been charmed not to spill. That was nice, Hermione reflected distantly. She smiled dopily in her after glow. Her Professor emerged from between her thighs and smiled wildly up at her, even though he hadn't yet been satisfied. The two smiled stupidly at each other for a few moments before Professor Lupin snapped out of his trance and leaned forward to scoop Hermione up bridal style. She giggled in breathless surprise as he carried her over and set her down upon his desk. Staring up at him, she watched as he leaned in and kissed her. Hermione gasped, and Lupin took the opportunity to invade her mouth with his tongue.

She could taste herself on his mouth, and the sensation made her want to be as close to him as possible. Scooting forward on the desk, she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. His arousal made itself known to her immediately and she ground into it, moaning as his tongue continued to fight for dominance in their frenzied kisses. Moans and gasps echoed throughout the office as they rocked and thrust against each other. He detached his hands from around her waist and began to undue his trousers. Hermione helped shove them down to unleash his straining cock. He sheathed himself in her immediately, both of them groaning in satisfaction as she encased his manhood. She barely had time to enjoy the delicious feeling of fullness before he pulled out and thrust deeply back inside her. Hermione leaned back, bracing herself on the desk so that she was tilted away from him at an angle. She thrust to meet him and they found a rhythm that had Hermione crying out as he took her deeper and deeper. In the back of her mind she was aware that his papers were being knocked to the floor as they rutted on his desk, but neither of them seemed to care as he continued to take her without abandoned.

"God, love, you're so tight," Lupin gasped as he thrust into her. "Come on. Come for me, love," he urged her.

With one last frantic thrust Hermione spun out of control, and Lupin followed shortly after. They cried out together as they both found their release.

Panting, Hermione fell back flat on the desk.

"Wow," she gasped out. Lupin smiled at her. Still inside her, he reached forward and pushed aside a sweaty tendril of hair from her forehead. They stared intently into each others eyes, and then Remus leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. _Oh. My. Merlin._

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><p><strong>So a little BDSM for ya'll who like that, and a little sweetness for ya'll who like that. Tell me if you thought the end was rushed. Please review!<strong>


	5. Healing

**AN: Ohmygod ya'll, I'm SO SORRY, for the wait, but I've been so swamped with school. Peace and love, hope you like.**

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><p>Hermione awoke from an uneasy sleep in the early hours of Saturday morning. Yesterday, the day of the full moon, had been miserable for her. As hard as she had tried to bury herself in academia, the specter of the coming night and what it would bring loomed over her. She had spent all day gnawing on her lower lip, struggling not to feel sick over the prospect of what her Professor would face that night.<p>

Defense against the Dark arts had been particularly hard to get through, especially with Professor Snape swooping around like the sneering, overgrown bat that he was. The oily man was dripping condescension and scorn along with an excess of grease. Hermione had been in no mood to be subjected to the company of her Potions Professor yesterday. Not only was the man generally unpleasant, but his presence in the Defense classroom only emphasized the absence of Professor Lupin.

Hermione had spent the previous night unable to sleep, instead spending hours hugging a pillow to her chest and staring out the window, searching masochistically for a glimpse of the full moon. It was hard to reconcile how such a beautiful sight could be the cause of such misery and horror. Of course, Hermione had always been saddened by what Professor Lupin faced as a result of his condition, empathetic soul and champion of the disenfranchised that she was, but never before had she experienced such acute sorrow over what he was going through.

Rubbing her sleep deprived eyes, Hermione glanced over at the mechanical clock on the nightstand. Seeing that it was almost 9:30 in the morning, Hermione yelped and scrambled out of bed. She had plans to meet Dobby at 10 o'clock in the room of requirement, and Hermione rarely permitted herself to be late.

Unable to concentrate on her lessons whatsoever yesterday, Hermione had instead devoted her considerable faculties to formulating the best plan with which to cheer up her Professor during his convalescence. The first stage of her plan involved copious amounts of chocolate. Having now seen her Professor's face when he was in the midst of orgasm, Hermione had realized that a rather similar expression came over him when he was savoring a particularly delectable bit of chocolate.

Hermione wasn't exactly the queen of domesticity, but as a child she had spent many happy afternoons baking with her mother. As her role had mainly consisted of licking batter covered utensils and dropping eggs on the floor, Hermione didn't feel confident enough to attempt making her mother's famous Oreo truffles on her own. She would have asked Harry to help (he was quite the good cook, having had lots of practice slaving away for the Dursleys), but he would surely be occupied with trying to calm Ron's nerves before the afternoon Quidditch match. Besides, if Harry knew she was making truffles for Remus, he would surely tell Ron, who would surely be insufferable about it. With this reasoning, Hermione had turned to Dobby for help. The house elf was eager to assist her in her endeavor, and very excited about the prospect of working with muggle ingredients.

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><p>Two hours later Hermione emerged covered in Oreo crumbs from the room of requirement. In a replica of her mother's kitchen, Hermione and Dobby had just put the finishing touches on a tray of Oreo chocolate truffles. They were incredibly rich, and Hermione found it impossible to eat more than two in succession, but she had a feeling her Professor would like them. The man was fiend for chocolate. Before Dobby could dash off to the Kitchens in order to store the truffles until later that night, Hermione bent down and crushed the elf in an affectionate hug.<p>

"Thank you," she whispered.

Dobby's cheeks colored a dark green that appeared to be a blush. "You is most welcome, Miss Hermione," he squeaked, and then with a loud crack he and the truffles vanished.

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><p>Despite the fact that it was a rather windy day, Hermione spent the duration of the Quidditch match (Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw) putting the finishing touches on the red and gray scarf she was knitting for Remus. Several players were blown off course during the game, including a light weight second year on the Ravenclaw team who, buffeted by a particularly fierce gust of wind, crashed into the Slytherin tower and almost fell off his broom. Through all the nasty weather, Hermione continued to knit. She finished tying off the ends of the scarf and smoothing out the lumps by magic just in time to see Harry come out of a spectacular dive, golden snitch grasped triumphantly in hand.<p>

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><p>For three hours now, a raucous celebratory party had been raging in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione sat on a red, plush couch, squished tightly between the twins and Harry, sipping daintily at a warm butterbeer. Content to watch the spectacle, Hermione had spent the last few hours giggling into her butterbeer as her classmates made arses out of themselves. At half past eight in the evening, Hermione unstuck herself from the couch and stood.<p>

"You were great, Harry!" she enthused, bending down to give the boy a platonic kiss on the cheek. This set the twins off, and they pretended to retch theatrically all over each other. Their pantomime was accompanied by the very real sound of a completely blitzed third year vomiting in the corner. Hermione rolled her eyes and went to find Ron. As she didn't want to interrupt what looked like a rather intense moment he and Leah Holloway were having in the corner, she decided to congratulate him on the match, and perhaps a new girlfriend, later. Waving to her joyous classmates (who, led by the twins and Lee Jordan, were inexplicably toasting her) Hermione scrambled through the portrait hole.

Emerging into the peace of the cool, quiet corridor, Hermione leaned back against the stone wall, resting. After a brief respite, Hermione took a few deep breaths to collect herself before heading up to her dorm in order to prepare for seeing Professor Lupin. The party had failed to distract her from her eagerness to attend to the recovering werewolf.

Attempting to hold her robe closed, keep the tray of truffles from toppling to the floor, and open the door all at once, Hermione found herself in a very precarious position. Shuffling to the side, Hermione managed to bang her elbow into Remus' office door. Cursing, she let go of her robe and let it fall open to reveal what was beneath. She was wearing a school uniform, but a completely bastardized version of the standard issue. Hermione's gray, pleated skirt was so criminally short that were she bend over, her delicate, black lace thong would be exposed. Ginny had convinced her to buy it last year in order to combat the scourge of panty lines, but now it would come in handy for something else. Her white oxford was unbuttoned to the navel, where it had been tied in a knot in order to showcase her enticing navel. The black lace bra that matched her thong could be seen clearly through her blouse, the edges of lace peeking out. Hermione always felt deliciously naughty when she wore black underwear. To complete the look, she had tied her hair back in pigtails with Gryffindor ties. Not eager for anyone but her Professor to see her looking like an escapee from the set of a Britney Spears music video, Hermione had covered up with a robe.

Now, jiggling the knob of her Professor's office door, Hermione let her robe swing open. She just managed to nudge open the door, almost dropping her dessert tray in the process. Breathing a sigh of relief that she hadn't ruined her pastries and made a complete fool of herself, Hermione placed the tray of truffles delicately on her Professor's desk. She felt a warm, pleasant blush spread over her body when she looked at the desk and remembered what she had so recently done there. Seeing that Remus wasn't in his office, Hermione deduced that he was still upstairs recovering from last night's ordeal. Perfect! Hermione resisted the urge to clap her hands together in glee, which would have been ridiculously girlish. He was exactly where she wanted him. Charming the tray of sweets to float in front of her (why hadn't she thought of that earlier?), Hermione began climbing the staircase that led to her Professor's living quarters. She'd already seen his bathroom, but it seemed as if she was going to be seeing a lot more than that tonight. Taking a deep breath, Hermione slowly eased open the door to Remus' bedroom.

The bedside lamp was on, casting a dim, warm glow throughout the room. Remus was lying in bed, snoring softly with an open book perched atop his bare chest. It appeared as though he had fallen asleep reading Dickens. Levitating the truffle tray to settle on a dresser, Hermione dropped her robe. With a wicked little smile, she began creeping toward the bed and her unsuspecting Professor. Remus was sleeping peacefully on top of the covers wearing only a pair of pajama pants. Straddling his lap, Hermione raked her eyes eagerly over her Professor. An array of scars decorated the expanse of his chest and abdomen. Some were thin and white, others red and thicker. Hermione reached forward and tenderly stroked a jagged scar that dragged down the side of his hip, disappearing into the waistband of his pajamas. With a start, Remus jerked awake.

"Jesus Christ!" he said, startled. He stared at the witch poised on his lap with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Smiling benevolently, Hermione leaned forward and plucked the open book from his chest. Closing it around the worn, leather bookmark she placed it on the bedside table.

"Good evening, Professor," she said softly. She bent to kiss his forehead, letting her breasts brush lightly against his chest in the process, before settling back gently on his lap.

"Is this a dream?" Remus asked, sounding dazed, and looking adorably sleepy.

Hermione chuckled. "This is very real, Professor," she smirked. "But I could pinch you if you'd like. Or offer some other, more preferable, form of proof."

"What are you doing here?"

Adopting a sincerely innocent expression that was at odds with her outfit and her current position on top of her Professor's lap, Hermione stroked the side of his face. "I wanted to make you feel better," she said simply. Flooded with sudden insecurity, she stared down at the comforter. "Do you want me to go?"

"No," he said quickly, grasping her wrist. "Stay."

Hermione smiled, pleasant butterflies erupting in her chest. "Okay."

"Merlin, Hermione," he said, struggling to sit up. "You look like a walking fetish."

She raised an eyebrow, "Yours?" she inquired mischievously, shifting against his lap.

"You already seem to be perking up," she observed, feeling his length hardening beneath her.

Climbing off his lap, Hermione made her way over to the bedside table where she had set the truffles. "I have chocolate," she informed him. Standing before the tray, she spun and faced him. Staring very deliberately into his eyes, she slowly untied the tails of her blouse. Peeling it from her shoulders, Hermione unveiled her lace clad breasts to him. Reaching behind her, she undid the clasp of her bra and let it fall from her body along with her mangled blouse. Remus stared at her newly freed, swaying breasts as if hypnotized. Hermione smirked, enjoying the power she held over him. Tonight, their usual roles would be reversed.

Turning back to the chocolates, she bent, exposing the expanse of her arse to him, and grabbed two chocolates. After affixing them to her breasts with a light sticking charm, Hermione stalked over to the bed and once again straddled her Professor's lap. Lifting her breasts and shoving them together tantalizingly, she arched her back, thrusting her chocolate adorned breasts toward Remus like an offering. He gladly accepted. The feeling of his warm tongue tickled her pleasantly as he nibbled at one of the truffles. Once it was gone, he swirled his tongue around her naked nipple and sucked hard before detaching. Panting, he took a few deep breaths before diving for her other breast and the truffle attached to it.

"Did you make those?" he rasped, when he had finally licked the last morsel of chocolate from her body.

"Mmmhmm. This morning," she affirmed, fisting her hand in his hair.

"They're," he panted, "really good."

"I thought you would like them," she replied, leaning forward and kissing him passionately. As she ran her tongue along his bottom lip, begging wordlessly for entrance, she tasted chocolate.

"Mmm," she moaned into his mouth, partly from the kiss and partly from the admittedly delicious remnants of the Oreo truffles.

Reluctantly forced to come up for air, Hermione broke away from Remus, panting heavily. She sat back and studied him. His pupils were dilated and his eyes looked fevered. However, she wasn't sure if it was from lust or the recent full moon.

"Do you feel, okay?" she asked, leaning her forehead against his.

"A little stiff and sore, but that's normal. And I'm better now that you're here," he stroked her arm.

"Stiff, huh?" she questioned impishly, wriggling on his lap.

He chuckled. "Yes, stiff, you wicked, little witch."

"Turn over," she said suddenly.

"What, why?" he said, acquiescing with a bemused smile none the less.

"I'll give you a massage. I've been trained in healing, you know," she informed him, perching herself on his lower back, facing his feet. "First let's get these pajama pants off," she said, beginning to tug the flannel bottoms down over his delectably firm ass. "I'll start with your calves."

"Will you now?" he asked archly, peering at her over his shoulder.

"That is, if it's okay with you, Professor," she demurred as she finished removing his pajama bottoms and revealing his tight bum, clad in black boxer briefs.

"Go ahead," Remus said, pillowing his head in his arms. "If anyone can help it's you."

"Not Madame Pomfry?" Hermione asked curiously as she began kneading his calves.

"I'm fine with her pouring potions down my throat, but not so comfortable with her massaging my intimate parts, even for strictly medical purposes."

"Oh, Professor, I haven't even gotten to your intimate parts yet," Hermione said, leaning forward to really dig into Remus' right calf, giving him a perfect view up her skirt if he turned his head just the right way.

"You'll have to work on my neck later," he told her as he continued to enjoy the view, despite the strain on said body part. In fact, the view was causing strain on certain other body parts too.

"Mmm, that feels good," he groaned as Hermione really went to work on his calves. He let his head flop back onto the pillow, giving up the view in order to surrender to the sensation of the massage. He figured he would be able to enjoy other pleasant views of a certain Miss Granger later on. Right now, he simply settled in to enjoy her touch.

"You have nice leg hair," Hermione told him.

"Do I?"

"Mmmhmm. Very sexy." Finishing his claves, she switched positions so she was lightly straddling them and facing the other direction. She was ready to work on his thighs. Half massaging him, and half shamelessly groping him she worked her way higher and higher up. Bending forward to place a kiss on his muscled and scarred back, her hair brushed against the tops of his thighs. Remus groaned. Moving farther up on his leg, Hermione straddled one and began inching her hands up the bottom of her Professor's black boxer briefs. The muscles of his arse flexed at her touched. She massaged greedily, exploring eagerly with her hands. Grabbing and kneading, she began rocking against his thigh, her wetness rubbing off on him. Both of them were moaning now, and Remus wanted nothing more than for Hermione to move the hand that was currently inside his pants to the front of his body and massage there. Unfortunately, or so he viewed it, she seemed to regain control of herself and, with one last squeeze of his bum, withdrew her hand from his boxer briefs.

"Let me do your back," she gasped out. His shoulders were incredibly tense, and Hermione spent a good fifteen minutes turning them to mush. As Remus felt the stiffness bleed from his neck and shoulders he groaned in appreciation.

"You're an angel, Hermione."

She smiled.

After she finished the rest of his back Hermione took some time to sit back and study it. Not only was it deliciously well-muscled, as she had been able to feel clearly throughout the course of the massage, but the multitude of scars painted across it were like a map of his history. She traced one in fascination, longing to ask him how he'd gotten it. Not wanting to dredge up unpleasant memories, or push him too far, Hermione refrained. Brushing a soft array of breathy kisses across his back, Hermione inhaled the scent of him deeply. His skin was warm and smelt pleasantly of man with a hint of spice and sweat.

"You can turn over now," Hermione murmured softly into his back. "I'll do your front."

Once Hermione had dismounted him, Lupin stretched before flipping over onto his back. At the sight of his obviously raging hard on, Hermione licked her lips and smiled wickedly. Scooting back so she was sitting on his calves, Hermione began massaging the front inside of his thighs, staring avidly at his erection the whole time. As her hands drew closer and closer the portion of his anatomy that was standing at attention, Remus' breathing grew increasingly erratic.

"Take down your hair," he rasped, as one of her hands brushed against his cloth covered balls. She paused and looked up at him, cocking her head to the side in question.

"Why?" she asked, gently cupping his balls through his briefs in order to tease him.

"I like it best down!" he gasped as she softly massaged.

Nudging his erection with her nose like a curious puppy, Hermione sat back on her heels.

"As you wish, Professor," Hermione said, undoing the Gryffindor hair ties and shaking out her pigtails.

Remus groaned as the apple-vanilla scent of her hair cascaded over him. Shifting to his lap, Hermione wriggled to get comfortable, prompting more groans as she settled herself on top of his straining cock. She moaned. Leaning forward, her now loose hair tickling his chest, Hermione began massaging his upper pectorals. His nipples tightened as her hair brushed over them. Positioning herself parallel to his chest, Hermione raked her teeth across one erect nipple. She then began exploring his chest with her hands and tongue. As she swirled her tongue around his left nipple, she ran her hand eagerly across the delineated plans of his abs.

"You must work out, Professor," she said breathlessly, grinding into his erection as her tongue traced a scar just under his collar bone.

"I run around the Quidditch pitch," he gasped. "Every morning."

Hermione switched the attention of her tongue to his other nipple, nipping it lightly and then laving it. With the hand that wasn't feeling up his abdominal muscles, Hermione massaged his other pectoral, tweaking his nipple between her fingers. Sliding back so that her soft breasts framed her Professor's manhood, Hermione perched herself on his thighs and began eagerly running her tongue over his chest and stomach.

"I have wanted to do this," she breathed hotly against his abs, "for so long."

"Really?" he choked out.

"Mmhmm," licking along the waistband of his boxer briefs, "I used to fantasize about it in class all the time." She pulled down on his waistband, as if about to relieve him of his underwear. But then she suddenly sat up.

"What," he panted frantically. "What are you doing?"

"Why, Professor," she said, shooting him a somewhat evil smile. "It's time for your sponge bath."

Hermione dunked a sponge in to a bucket of warm, soapy water. After ringing it out slightly, she began rubbing it up and down the planes of Remus' chest.

"Does that feel good, Professor?" she asked. After all, her motives in this weren't purely sexual. She suspected that the warm water and soft pressure of the sponge would be soothing to his sore muscles.

"Yes," he answered. "Too good."

Hermione dragged the sponge lower, brushing it back and forth across the rather obvious outline of her Professor's cock, soaking his underwear with warm soapy water. When she attached her mouth to his erection through the wet cloth and breathed hotly against his cock, it twitched. Sitting back, she dunked the sponge in the bucket once again, giggling when some of the contents splashed over the rim.

"Oops," she giggled, as his lap and her thighs became covered in warm, soapy water. Raising the still saturated sponge, she squeezed it out over her naked breasts. She massaged her slippery, soap covered tits while Remus watched.

"Have you ever pictured me like this, Professor? Naked, slippery, wet and on top of you?"

Remus' only coherent response was to groan and jerk his hips. Hermione let her breasts bounce free of her hands, and reached for the waistband of her Professor's boxer briefs. Slowly, she peeled them from his body, freeing his rock hard cock from the fabric that had been holding it hostage. Tugging the briefs all the way down his legs and then tossing them to the side, Hermione scooted her way up one of his thighs. Dipping her head, she took his tip, already leaking precum, in her mouth. Moaning theatrically around him, she began stroking the length of his shaft up and down between her soapy breasts as she continued to suck him off. For the next five minutes Hermione gave Remus a very enthusiastic blow job/titty fuck as she humped his thigh. Feeling his balls tighten in anticipation of his impending orgasm, Hermione released him from her mouth. Then, continuing to stroke him roughly with her breasts, she waited. A minute later, after thrusting erratically between her tits, he came explosively. Streams of thick, ropey cum splattered across his chest. They both panted heavily into the silence in the after effect of his orgasm.

Remus sank back against his pillows, spent. But Hermione wasn't nearly done with him. She shocked him to his core by leaning forward and licking a line of cum from his chest. Eagerly slurping every last bit of his seed off him, Hermione licked him clean. She continued to lick after all the evidence of his orgasm was gone, merely exploring him with her tongue at her leisure. When she was satisfied, she climbed off him, smiling like, if you'll forgive the cliché, a cat that got the cream. Striding over to his bookcase, she took a seat in a comfortably worn red armchair that wouldn't have been out of place in the Gryffindor common room. Idly, she wondered if he had stolen it from the tower. The man was a Marauder after all. And he had certainly demonstrated to her many times over that he could live up to the badass reputation.

Leaning back, Hermione hitched a leg over each arm of the chair, spreading herself before Remus.

"Sit up, Professor," she whispered huskily. "You don't want to miss the show."

Breathing hard in the aftermath of his orgasm, Remus opened his eyes and turned to watch her. Hermione dragged her fingers up and down her spread thighs, teasing herself. Finding her dripping center, Hermione began stroking herself through her lace thong. Using one hand to circle her clit, she ran the other up her stomach, caressing it before coming to her breasts. She massaged first one, then the other, before rolling a tight nipple between her fingers. Watching her Professor under eyes hooded with lust, Hermione continued to pleasure herself. She noted that he was already growing hard all over again. She moaned, impressed on both their behalves. Pushing one of her breasts up to her face, she ran her tongue around her own nipple, sucking it into her mouth. She and Remus moaned simultaneously. Shoving aside the scant fabric of her thong, Hermione frantically inserted two fingers inside herself. Continuing to furiously work her clit, she began pumping the fingers in and out of her body, arching into her hand with little sighs of pleasure.

"Remus," she moaned throatily as she curled one of the fingers inside herself and stroked her own G-spot.

She let out a continuous stream of breathy, little moans. Hermione could feel her orgasm building inside her as she continued to stimulate both her G and C spots.

"Oh God Remus, I'm gonna cum!" she screamed, and with a shudder her orgasm hit. She convulsed around her fingers, tipping her head back in endorphin induced ecstasy. She let herself melt back into the chair, reveling in her post orgasm high for a few minutes, before withdrawing her fingers from herself with a pleased, little sigh. She breathed heavily, and wiped a tendril of sweaty hair from her forehead. Sitting up, she stared at her Professor, a naughty gleam in her eyes.

Remus was watching her avidly, stroking his renewed hard on. Dragging herself from the chair and making her way, on rubbery legs, back to the bed, Hermione scolded him.

"Ah, ah, ah, Professor. Not so fast," she admonished.

Perching herself on the bed, she gently removed his hands from his cock. Still tingling from the effects of her recent, self-induced orgasm, Hermione crawled over to him. Using her hands, she leveraged herself above his cock, letting it just barely brush her still lace clad pussy. She ground herself back and forth against her Professor's erection, setting off groans in both of them. The head of his manhood teased her clit through the lace, and she could feel it nudging between her lips, eager to part them. She teased them languidly in this manner for a while, before suddenly grasping his shoulders and thrusting down on him. The girth of his cock shoved aside the fabric of her thong as he entered her. When he was about half way in, she lowered herself onto his manhood very deliberately, sheathing himself in her to the hilt. They both groaned, staring into each others eyes as Hermione let herself revel in the delicious fullness. He filled her up, pushing against her walls and stretching her till she thought she would see stars.

Hermione began shifting her hips back and forth against him as he clutched at the bed posts behind them, straining to control himself and keep from flipping her over and pounding into her tight, little cunt. Hermione lifted and lowered herself on his cock over and over again as he thrust up into her, releasing varying lengths of his cock before falling back down on him, her mouth open in an 'o' of pleasure. The smell of sweat and the sounds of slapping skin and animalistic grunts mingled in the air with Hermione's breathy sighs and moans, the ambiance of their languid sex. Hermione's nails clutched at Remus' shoulders as she used them to drag herself up his long, hard, cock before sliding back down. The stared heatedly into each others eyes, and that's when Hermione did a 180, spinning slowly to face his feet, his cock still sheathed inside her. Remus' eyes spun into the back of his head. He had never felt such delicious friction before. As she spun around on his cock like some kind of goddess, his tentative self-control snapped.

"Holy, fuck, Hermione!" he groaned, as she leaned forward to grab his ankles. He thrust up into her hard, and without abandon, staring at her beautiful smooth white back and the round, perfect globes of her arse. He was unrelenting, pounding into her over and over till she screamed his name as she came. She convulsed perfectly around his cock, sending him over the edge in time with her. Together, they rode out their orgasms, collapsing against each other in a naked, exhausted heap when they were through.

Sometime later, Hermione raised her head from Remus' chest, which she had been using as a pillow. Still floating around in a haze of post-coital bliss, Hermione struggled overcome her muddled thoughts and clear the clouds from her mind. She felt as if she was on a cloud. A soft, fluffy, cloud. Mmm. She felt so good, so relaxed and pleasantly tender in all the right places. Distantly, she realized that she should be getting back to her dorm. She groaned softly and moved to sit up, but was prevented by Remus' strong arm.

"What are you doing?" he mumbled into her neck through her hair, pulling her to him and wrapping his body around hers, encasing her in warmth.

"I should get back-" she started, but he cut her off.

"Stay," he said again, as he had at the start of the night when she had been feeling unsure of herself. Now she was feeling ridiculously blissful, and she cuddled back against him. They fell asleep warm, happily exhausted, and tangled up in each other.

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><p><strong>AN: This chap was a little different, but I think it's important to have different kinds of sex and besides, Remus was recovering. But don't worry, he'll be back to his dominant ways in the next chap :) Review please! Pretty please with Oreo truffles on top. Trust me, they are positivly orgasmic.<br>**


	6. Possesion

_AN: Well, here's the next chapter, FINALLY! Happy belated Christmas ya'll, for those who celebrate, and happy hols to the rest! _

**WARNING: This chap contains graphic sexual content and potential traumatization of minors. I would just like to warn you that this chapter is completely, outlandishly ridiculous, was thought up in the middle of the night, and might be too much for some people.**

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><p><em>Hermione hummed sleepily and burrowed further into the warmth behind her. As she gradually awoke, she became aware of a hard bulge nestled against her arse. It pressed insistently into her backside, demanding her attention. <em>

What could that possibly be_, Hermione wondered curiously, still not fully roused._

_Experimentally, she pressed back into the bulge, squirming against it and eliciting a soft groan. It was then that Hermione became aware that she was not alone in her bed. In fact, she wasn't in her bed at all, she was in someone else's. The memories of the previous night came rushing back, and Hermione found herself suddenly, startlingly awake and irrevocably aware of her bunk mate and his morning companion, which was wedged up against her backside. An arm, dusted with light golden hair, was draped over her stomach, pulling her tightly against a warm, distinctly male body. Hermione found she was clutching the arm with both hands, as if to make sure it wouldn't stray from her. Even unconsciously, Hermione enjoyed being surrounded by the warm embrace of her Professor. Said Professor's other arm fell lower on her body, over her waist. As Hermione squirmed once again against the insistent bulge, unable to resist now that she had realized what it was, she became aware of a startling fact. As they slept, Remus' hand had migrated between her thighs and was now cupping her naked sex possessively. A pleased, rosy pink blush spread over her body at this realization. Her Professor's unconscious posseviness was both arousing and endearing. The thought of belonging to the man, of being claimed and possessed by him completely for everyone to know, was one that had her turning to mush. If it wouldn't have been completely ridiculous, she would have gladly purchased a bracelet that proclaimed proudly 'Property of R. J. Lupin'. _

_Hermione smiled bashfully, and ducked her head against Remus' arm. He really did have such deliciously sexy arm hair, she mused, rubbing her cheek back and forth against his arm. It was one of the first things she had noticed about him back in third year. Hermione was very particular about arm and leg hair on men. It was one of the things she noticed that other people didn't seem to care about. And Remus' was practically perfect. Soft, and just the right amount of it. Raising her head, Hermione turned about carefully in her Professor's arms so that she was facing him. He grumbled half heartedly, scrunching up his face in the most adorable way, and adjusted the hand between her legs. Hermione tensed in his arms, not sure what his reaction to finding her in his bed would be when he awoke, but for the moment anyway, he remained asleep. Light puffs of warm breath fanned across her face in a steady rhythm, evidence of his continued state of slumber. The man really was cute when he slept, and Hermione spent a few moments simply watching him sleep and enjoying the sight._

_However, her Professor's morning erection had become more prominent and she found she couldn't ignore it for long. It was now digging into her naked stomach, prompting the spread of pleasant tingles throughout her body and a deluge of wetness between her thighs. Reaching down between their bodies, Hermione found his member and gripped it firmly. As she stroked, her Professor began to stir. He shifted against her, moaning and thrusting slightly into her hand. She rutted against the hand that cupped her sex and continued to stroke him. Eyes still shut, Remus flipped onto his back and pulled her body on top of his. She released his cock from her hand and instead spread her thighs for him. He slipped easily into her awaiting passage, wet and eager as she already was. As she took him inside her, Remus moaned and pressed a hand against her arse, urging her to take him deeper. Hermione groaned, and her inner muscles contracted around his cock. Remus' eyes snapped open. With a grunt, he thrust upward once before flipping them over so that she was suddenly on her back with him above her. Remus was clearly awake now._

_Spreading her legs farther, Hermione hooked her ankles together behind his neck and thrust up to meet him. They stared into each other's eyes, sighing and moaning occasionally, but not speaking. When they had finished, Remus collapsed against her and she clung to him tightly. Hermione found herself breathless and drained from the intensity of the sex. _

_Once they had regained their breath, Remus rolled onto his side, maneuvering Hermione so that they were cuddled up against each other. _

"_Hi," he said softly, reaching out to tuck a sweaty tendril of hair behind her ear._

"_Hi," she whispered back, scooting up even closer to him and nuzzling her head into his chest. _

_They simply cuddled for bit, before Hermione's curious hands reached out and began to explore. Though she was feeling closer and more intimately connected to her Professor than ever, she still didn't feel comfortable enough to broach the subject of his scars with him; so instead she traced them, asking with her hands what she didn't feel confident enough to with her words. _

_As she became lost in the contours of his body, littered generously with scars of all kinds, Remus tilted his head back and peered down at her. _

"_You can ask about them you know," he informed her after a while._

_Hermione, who had been absorbed with following the line of a particularly deep and harsh scar, looked up at him, an embarrassed blush adorning her face. _

"_You have so many," she said in wonder, tracing a small one on his left bicep. "Are they all from the wolf?"_

"_Most of them, yes," he admitted easily, "but not all of them. Quite a few are souvenirs from Death Eaters, and more than I'd like to admit are the result of my own stupidity."_

_Hermione raised her eyebrows at him before resuming her study of his chest. _

"_How did you get this one," she inquired, tracing the deep scar she had been examining earlier._

"_Ah, that one's from the wolf. Most of the deep, fresh looking ones are. Werewolf wounds are a bitch to heal. They don't respond well to magic and the scars never really fade."_

"_Interesting," Hermione hummed. "That makes sense. I wonder why I've never come across it in my readings," she wondered out loud, a bit put out that she hadn't known this piece of information before hand. She usually made it a priority to be well versed in any subject she found interesting. _

_Lupin grinned at her as she pouted. "Well, Miss Granger, I'm glad you find me so fascinating as to warrant research."_

_Hermione blushed, but Remus simply began playing with her hair, twisting her tangled curls around his fingers. _

"_It's not surprising that you didn't find anything on long term werewolf scars," he said, continuing to run his fingers through her hair as he talked. "Most werewolves die relatively young, and the ones that survive to adulthood aren't usually very receptive to answering questions about their old scars. Mind you, people usually don't ask," he reflected. _

_Hermione nodded thoughtfully, taking in this information. _

"_Well, that's remiss of them," she decided. "How do they expect to learn anything, much less find a potential cure, if they don't conduct proper research? I mean -" _

_Lupin brought a finger to her lips, abruptly cutting off her building tirade. _

"_As much as I enjoy it when you go all swotty and righteously indignant on my behalf, love, you'll give yourself an ulcer if you're not careful. Most people aren't as accepting of my species as you are." He shot her a smile, but Hermione remained unappeased. _

"You're _species?_ _Don't debase yourself Remus, you know perfectly well that we're the same species. You have an affliction, but it certainly doesn't change the fact that you're a man. To suggest otherwise would be to imply that I have been engaging in bestiality this past week, which is not only disgusting, but deeply offensive and absolutely untrue," she said stubbornly, sucking in a much needed breath of air when she had finished making her point. _

"_Alright, love, you win," Remus allowed. "Remind me never to get into an argument with you this early in the morning ever again," he paused. "Or when you're naked. It gives you a distinctly unfair advantage."_

_Hermione sputtered. "How so? You're naked too!" she pointed out._

"_Ah yes, but not only do you look thoroughly ravished, deliciously so, but I can smell myself and sex all over you." _

_Hermione blushed with pleasure, finding herself very grateful for his heightened senses at that moment._

"_Besides," he continued, after taking a moment to revel in her rather adorable reaction to his statement, "You're body is considerably more distracting than my own."_

_Hermione glanced up at him. "I find your body very distracting," she informed him earnestly, tenderly tracing yet another scar, this one on his forehead. _

"_How did you get this one?" she asked._

"_Sirius hit me in the head with a hockey stick."_

"Hermione. Hermione. HERMIONE!"

With a start, Hermione was wrenched from her daydream and back into the present. She had been lost in a happy reminiscence of that morning two days ago when she had woken up in her Professor's arms, and was none too pleased to be jolted from it by Ginny.

Said loud mouthed red head was perched opposite her on the couch, rocking back and forth on her heels and poking the Head Girl insistently.

"Yes?" Hermione asked, a hint of irritation finding it's way into her voice despite the fact that she was striving to be polite. As much as she would rather be vividly reliving every detail of her encounter with Remus, Ginny didn't look as if she would be leaving her alone anytime soon. So it was with an air of great reluctance that Hermione handed her attention over to the younger girl.

"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?" was the annoying question Ginny posed to her.

Hermione assessed her warily. She didn't like the wicked gleam in the redhead's eyes, nor the smug smile adorning her face which suggested that she somehow knew _exactly_ what Hermione had been thinking about.

"Why?" asked Hermione, narrowing her eyes in suspicion at the devious younger witch.

"Because," said Ginny matter-of-factly, "you look as if you've just had an orgasm and a cheering charm cast on you simultaneously. Which sounds totally awesome, by the way."

Hermione gaped at her in wide eyed astonishment and horror, unable to even respond.

Ginny, looking all together unruffled even though she had just uttered the word 'orgasm' in the middle of the common room, eagerly scooted closer to Hermione.

"So?" she said, raising her eyebrows expectantly at the older girl, who was still mouthing wordlessly at her. "Who's the boy?"

Hermione sputtered! "It's not a boy," she managed to choke out. Before she could continue with some sort of fabricated explanation Ginny seized her hand, looking stunned but somewhat impressed.

"Holy shit, 'Mione!" she whisper-shouted, her voice disconcertingly loud even though she was apparently trying to be quiet. "You're sleeping with a girl? I didn't even know you swung that way!"

Hermione remained, as of yet, too shocked to dissuade the red headed girl of her incorrect assumption. It seemed though, that Ginny had managed to find a flaw in the logic of her hastily put together scenario all on her own. The excitement dripped from Ginny's face like stink sap and was replaced with a look of confusion. She made a face at Hermione.

"But then why have you been walking around all week like someone's hammered a board up between your thighs?"

"Ginny!" Hermione hissed.

Blushing furiously, she seized the red headed girls hand and began dragging her up the staircase to the sixth year dorms. After ascertaining that they were alone, Hermione shoved the door closed and performed a very complicated and hard to break locking charm which would keep any would be visitors from entering the room. No simple alohomora would get through _that_, Hermione thought with satisfaction.

Finished setting up her precautions, Hermione spun around to face Ginny, who was currently sitting on her bed and stroking her pygmy puff. No, that is not a euphemism.

"Am I…really walking as if…?" Hermione trailed off awkwardly.

Despite her rare bout of inarticulateness, Ginny seemed to pick up on what she was trying to ask anyhow. From her bed, she nodded decisively.

"Like a virgin, fucked for the very first time," the younger girl declared.

Hermione blanched. "Ginny, that's not even how it goes!"

Deciding to let the pureblood's mangling of muggle song lyrics go for the moment (after all, she certainly had more important things to worry about), Hermione turned her face in to the wall and groaned.

"Am I really being so obvious?" she asked. After all, if the redhead had noticed that she was walking more stiffly than usual and managed to deduce the reason why, maybe other people had too. Merlin, she was getting a migraine.

Ginny nodded sympathetically, but with a hint of amusement on her face. "You're hopeless, babe," she told her. Hermione groaned again, resisting the urge to bang her head against the wall.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"Well, you've been ultra distracted lately, which isn't like you, and you've been spacing out all the time with this look of blissed out happiness on your face. Like I said, people usually only look like that when they've just had an orgasm, or are thinking of something that's worthy of causing one."

"What would you know about how people look when they've just had an orgasm?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

Ginny smirked. "That's between me and Harry," she said. Hermione made a face. "Oh, and one more thing. That scarf you're wearing? It fools no one. Except possibly Ron, but he's the most oblivious creature on the planet. The rest of us are betting your neck is covered in hickeys."

Hermione blushed, confirming Ginny's suspicions. "So come on, spill. Who's marking you?"

Hermione shivered at the word choice, but then sighed. "I can't tell you Ginny."

"Come on, yes you can! I'm your best girlfriend! Why don't you want to tell me?" she pouted. "Is it someone scandalous?" she demanded. "Oh my Godric, is it Malfoy?"

Hermione choked on her own spit. "It is _not_ Malfoy," she said vehemently. "How could you possibly think it was _Malfoy_," she said, disgust dripping from every syllable as she uttered his name.

"What?" said Ginny defensively, folding her arms over her chest. "He's good looking. And from what I've heard about how he is in bed, he fit's the profile. Judging from how you've been walking around lately, someone's fucking you seriously hard."

Hermione groaned, the other girls word choices automatically calling erotic images and memories to her mind. Speaking of…

"Gobshite, Ginny I have to go. I have a detention with Remus - I mean with Professor Lupin, and I'm already late." Cursing herself for the name slip, Hermione blushed furiously and busied herself with arranging her bag, hoping that the red head wouldn't notice her odd behavior.

Unfortunately, Ginny did notice. Her eyebrows shot into her hairline in astonishment. If what she was thinking was true…

"Holy shit, 'Mione, you're not -"

Before the redhead could finish, Hermione rushed from the room.

* * *

><p>"<em>Miss Granger, your detention this evening has been relocated to my classroom. This change in location will not be considered an excuse for lateness."<em>

Hermione studied the sign affixed to the door of her Professor's office. She would have been late anyhow, having gotten caught up in her conversation with Ginny, even if it weren't for this last minute relocation. Her Professor was going to be most displeased with her, Hermione reflected as she made her way down the corridor and toward the staircase that led to the upper floors, where the Defense classroom was located. She couldn't help but grin at the thought. Not that she wanted Remus to be displeased with her per se, she was just looking forward exceedingly to being punished by him. In fact, she had taken certain measures to _guarantee_ that she would be punished most thoroughly by him that evening, which explained the purple thong she was wearing under her uniform skirt. It hardly provided enough material or coverage to be considered a proper undergarment in Hermione's opinion, but she was sure her Professor would tan her hide for it anyway. She was really in for it tonight, being late on top of everything else. A decidedly naughty giggle erupted from her. Shaking herself from her wicked thoughts, Hermione found she had reached the door to the Defense classroom.

She knocked, practically vibrating with sexual anticipation, and was granted permission to answer by her Professor.

However, when she entered the room the smile fell abruptly from Hermione's face. Her Professor was not the only occupant of the classroom. Two Gryffindor sixth years, trouble makers she was intimately familiar with due to her Head Girl duties, were sitting among the desks. They appeared to be writing lines. Hermione repressed a sigh. She guessed that their naughty fun would have to wait until her next detention.

"What'd little miss perfect Head Girl do to land herself in detention?" she heard Nicolas Parker mutter to his friend and fellow hellion, Dylan Saunders.

Choosing to ignore them, Hermione strode to her Professor, coming to a stop in front of his desk.

"Good evening, Professor Lupin," she greeted him, struggling to keep the disappointment from her voice. It seemed as if she were destined to spend a sexually frustrating evening, what with the company they had.

"You'll be helping me grade sixth year quizzes and papers tonight, Miss Granger. You can have a seat."

He gestured to a place beside him at the desk. Hermione reluctantly took her seat. Being this close to her Professor and having to struggle to act normal for the benefit of the boys was going to be absolutely maddening. Remus' delicious sent wafted over her, and she inhaled greedily. She would get all that she possibly could from this proximity. She was positive that he himself would be able to smell her arousal. Her anticipation on the way there already had her thong a little damp, but she guessed that tonight they would both go unsatisfied. She repressed yet another petulant sigh.

Hermione spent an uneventful fifteen minutes marking quizzes in companionable silence with Remus, while the boys quietly penned their lines. She was just restraining herself from writing a scathing comment on a particularly deplorable essay response, when she felt a hand alight on her lower thigh. Hermione froze. When the hand simply stayed there, lightly massaging the inside of her thigh, Hermione went back to her corrections, attempting to act as if nothing was happening. However, she found that her breathing was now considerably shallower than it had been before, and she was becoming uncomfortably flushed. What was he playing at, the wicked devil? While it was true that Hermione usually had impeccable self control (except, of course, for that time she had punched Malfoy in the face, but that had been completely worth it, not to mention justified), it all seemed to fly out the window around a certain handsome Defense Professor. If he kept up the ministrations on her thigh, she was quickly going to lose control of her reactions.

The hand was now venturing farther up her thigh, into dangerous territory. The light patterns her Professor's nimble fingers were tracing on her delicate skin had Hermione's breath skipping in a dangerously noticeable manner. The two Gryffindor boys were shooting her occasional glances now, probably wondering what was wrong with her. Her Professor's fingers trailed higher and higher, making Hermione shiver deliciously at the sensation. He teased her upper thighs with his fingers, straying very close to her center. Would he actually touch her, Hermione wondered, when the boys were in the room? She didn't know if she could stand it if he did. It would surely show on her face, and the boys would become suspicious. After all, they were sixth years, far from innocent, and while they were trouble makers, they weren't stupid. They might be able to deduce what was going on.

When her Professor's fingers finally brushed over her thong clad center, Hermione gasped. She was torn between arousal and an oncoming panic attack. However, just after he touched her, a very hard look came over her Professor's face, and he quickly withdrew his hand from beneath her skirt.

"Miss, Granger, please stand and make your way to the front of my desk," he said in a hard, no nonsense tone of voice. Hermione gulped, that was his disciplinarian voice. Her sex pulsed in response, and she did as she was told automatically. She stood slowly and made her way around to the front of the desk, Remus following her. The boys were looking at him curiously. They'd never heard the man sound like that before, he was usually very easy going in class. They'd never heard him sound so strict or harsh.

Hermione stood nervously before her Professor's desk, eyes glued to the floor. She could feel his intense stare on her, and she struggled not to react visibly to it. He just stared at her for a time, his gaze full of censure. She squirmed, supremely uncomfortable, but also aroused.

"Stretch your hands before you and bend over my desk," Professor Lupin commanded in the same stern tone of voice he had used earlier. It was the one he always used when he disciplined her, and it had wetness leaking from her center, soaking through the fabric of her flimsy, purple thong.

Hermione gasped at the order, as did the boys. They were staring at her and Lupin in open mouthed shock. For once, Hermione hesitated to obey her Professor's order. She couldn't believe that he would be so audacious as to do this in front of two of his students. And sixth year trouble makers, who were surely beginning to understand the sexual connotations of her interaction with him. She had admitted to Remus that she had had fantasies where he disciplined her in front of others, but she never thought he would actually bring them to reality.

"Do as I say, Miss Granger, or I promise you it'll only be worse," Lupin said when she had gone a little too long for his liking without obeying his order. Slowly, and feeling as if there were giant frogs jumping about in her stomach, Hermione stretched her hands before her and bent over the desk. She was well aware that with how short her skirt was, her thong clad ass was now exposed to the boys. Hermione's cheeks burned with humiliation. Doubtlessly, they had lost all respect for her by now. She would never be able to discipline them again. Nevertheless, her stomach squirmed with desire and she continued to leak copious amounts of wetness into her thong.

She could feel Lupin's presence as he came to stand behind her. She stilled in anticipation of what he would do. She couldn't even guess at his actions any more. Before he could do anything however, Nicolas Parker spoke.

"Sir...Professor," he said weakly. "What are you doing? She's the Head Girl, you can't, what are you -" he trailed off.

"I am well aware of her position, Mr. Parker," Lupin replied, still using a no-nonsense tone of voice, but one less harsh than he had used when speaking to Hermione. "She is Head Girl, but I am her Professor, and as such have authority over her. Once again she has disobeyed me, and she must be punished."

Without warning, Her Professor flipped up her rather miniscule skirt using his ruler, completely exposing her backside to the boys. Hermione bit her lip to keep from moaning, whether in mortification or arousal she couldn't' be sure.

"As you have no doubt noticed, boys," Professor Lupin lectured, as the two Gryffindor's continued to stare at him in utter disbelief. "Miss Granger is wearing a thong. I have made clear to her repeatedly that she is forbidden from wearing undergarments in my presence, and yet she continues to do so. Therefore I must punish her."

He reached out and stroked the fading bruises, evidence of punishment he had meted out before. Hermione couldn't be sure if the red marks were even still visible. She was blushing so deeply that she suspected it might even have spread to her arse. However, from the way Lupin was tracing them tenderly, the outlines were still able to be seen.

"I've had to take a ruler to her before for this same infraction, and yet she continues to show up in offensive undergarments. I can only speculate, Miss Granger, that you are doing so to purposely provoke my ire."

Using the ruler, he pulled up on one of the straps of her thong, letting it snap back with a distantly painful smack. Hermione jerked. He knew what she was doing. He knew that the reason she kept showing up in knickers was because she wanted this. Because as much as it was depraved, nothing turned her on more than when he was disciplining and degrading her. And now they had an audience, witnesses to her humiliation.

Lupin dragged the ruler, which was still resting threateningly against her arse, downward under the lines of her thong. Hermione felt the hard wood brush tantalizingly against her slippery, wet pussy, but it wasn't the wood she wanted there. She shuddered at the sensation, nevertheless.

"I don't like it when my _property_," Remus emphasized the word, and Hermione arched her ass towards him unconsciously, uncaring of how much she was exposing to the sixth year Gryffindor's. "Misbehaves for any reason, and make no mistake, Miss Granger, you do belong to me."

Hermione shivered in response to his words, but before she could go all irrationally gooey at the thought of belonging to him completely, Remus thrust the ruler between her thighs, forcibly separating her legs with it, spreading them apart. Then Hermione heard the sound of the ruler coming at her, felt the generated wind as it cut swiftly through the air. It connected with the back of her thighs, just under her arse, a sharp, stinging blow.

Hermione yelped, she couldn't help it. It hurt, but she found herself tingling with more than just pain. As Lupin continued to deliver smacking blows to the backs of her thighs, he spanked her manually with his hand. Her Professor was keeping her guessing, mixing up the rhythm of his blows so that Hermione was tensed in anticipation, not knowing when she could expect the ruler on her thighs or his rough hand to strike her arse. He was completely humiliating her in front of the boys, treating her as if she was his possesion, to do with just as he wished, but Hermione only reveled in it. Her cheeks burned in shame, but her body buzzed with pleasure. When the blows finally stopped, both Hermione and her Professor were breathing hard.

Seizing her by the wrists, Remus hauled Hermione to her feet.

"Did you enjoy your punishment, Miss Granger?" he demanded, still panting.

Hermione, quite flushed and breathing hard herself, nodded. "Very much Professor," she murmured, staring at her feet. Her heart was pounding so hard that it felt as if it would burst up into her throat.

"I always enjoy when you punish me. I know I deserve it. I've been very…" here she stumbled, tripping over her words. She couldn't believe she was admitting these things in front of Parker and Saunders. "naughty," Hermione finished quietly, blushing scarlet. She would do anything to convince him of her absolute malleability to him. At that moment he could probably command her to do anything and she would obey, even in the presence of the boys. If he ordered, she would bend over the desk again and let him fuck her from behind right in front of them. And she would like it.

For a few minutes Remus had been silently appraising her, as if judging the sincerity of her demure submissiveness.

"I don't think she seems sufficiently contrite, do you boys?" he said finally. Her Professor had made his judgment, and it didn't matter what the boys said. Not that they seemed to be capable of speech at the moment.

"Miss Granger," Professor Lupin ordered harshly, "on your knees!"

Hermione lowered herself obligingly to the floor, supplicating herself not only before her Professor, but also the boys. The power in his voice as he commanded her left no room for disobedience. She shivered at the way he exerted his dominance over her, simultaneously thrilled and mortified at how he was displaying her as his submissive plaything. He was showing that she was his to command, and that she would do absolutely anything he said. She bowed her head, prostrating herself before her Professor on the cold, flagstone floor.

"Miss Granger, you will use that talented tongue of yours to lick clean every inch of my shoes. They're quite dirty, much like you."

Hermione was stunned at this turn of events. She had been expecting him to make her give him a blowjob. Somehow, this was more humiliating, and thus more exciting for her. He was literally making her lick his boots. Or, more appropriately, his dress shoes.

Hermione crawled across the floor and hesitatingly bent her head to his right shoe. It shouldn't have been sexual at all. She repeated that to herself over and over as she continued to swipe her tongue across the cool, black leather. It shouldn't have been sexual at all, but it was. Oh, god, but it was. His cock certainly tasted better, Hermione reflected as she continued to clean his shoes with her tongue. Despite this, Hermione found herself unbelievably turned on by what her Professor was forcing her to do. Bent over as she was, she knew the two boys would be able to see the dark, saturated crotch of her thong and the excess wetness that was now running down her thighs. She was a shuddering, sticky mess. Switching her attentions to his other shoe, Hermione concentrated on licking it clean. When she had made a thorough go of it, she sat back on her heels, peering expectantly up at her Professor, seeking his approval.

He examined his shoes critically before declaring, "Good girl," and patting her on the head. "Did you like cleaning my shoes for me?" he asked her.

Hermione nodded. "Yes Professor," she said earnestly, "but," she looked down and blushed, forcing out her next words with a great deal of embarrassment. "I would much rather use my mouth on your," she paused again, "cock," she finished in a whisper.

Lupin chuckled. "Don't worry miss Head Girl, you'll get the opportunity to suck me off momentarily. You can bob your head up and down on my cock till you've milked every last bit of cum from my body and swallowed it all up like the eager little slut you are. Would you like that?"

"Yes, Professor, I - I would," Hermione admitted quietly.

"Good," he smiled benevolently at her before suddenly switching his attention over to the boys.

"Parker, Saunders, I need you to go down to the kitchens and get some chocolate éclairs for me, I find myself having a craving. I trust you know where they are?"

Both boys nodded a hasty affirmative before practically sprinting from the room. When they had gone, Lupin returned his attention to Hermione, who was still kneeling before him on the floor, her knees a bit scraped up from the flagstone by this time. Remus took a seat behind his desk, before gesturing for Hermione to approach.

She went to stand, but her Professor held up a hand to stop her. "Crawl," he ordered, smiling wickedly, "I like the view."

Hermione obeyed, crawling toward him across the floor. It hurt her already raw knees to go even the few feet to his desk that way, but Hermione had a feeling her time on the floor wasn't quite over for the night. When she knelt before his desk, he motioned her under it, and then scooted his chair forward, boxing her inside. It was musty underneath the desk, and dark, but Hermione could clearly see the outline of her Professor's lap. A tell tale bulge was waiting for her attention.

"You may begin, Miss Granger," came Lupin's command, muffled from her vantage point beneath his desk. "You were so eager to wrap your filthy little mouth around me earlier, and now you have the privilege."

Hermione was indeed eager to obey, and she reached forward hastily to undo his belt.

Hermione had been performing enthusiastic ministrations on her Professor's considerable anatomy for about twenty minutes when she heard the sound of the classroom door opening. The boys must be back, she realized distantly as she concentrated on swirling her tongue around her Professor's sensitive tip.

She heard the sound of feet moving towards them, but was focusing far more on how deeply she could take her Professor in her mouth before her gag reflex kicked in.

"Lupin," came a nasty voice from above, dripping with disdain. Hermione froze, her lips locked around her Professor's cock. Only one person said his name that way, and that was Snape.

"I found these boys wandering the corridors, and they claim to have detention with you. Is this true?" inquired the oily man, sounding vastly irritated with the whole situation.

"Yes," said Remus, thrusting a hand in to Hermione's hair, urging her to continue deep throating him, despite the presence of his supremely unpleasant colleague.

"And where is our esteemed Head Girl?" Snape drawled sarcastically. "I was told she was also here."

"She's performing a task for me," Lupin said calmly. "One very much in line with her duties as Head Girl."

Hermione had never before realized the double entendre of her title before. Head Girl indeed, she thought, as she continued to move her head up and down over her Professor's length. She could almost feel the man smirking.

"I see," said Snape icily. "I suppose I'll be going then, loathe as I am to spend any more time here then I need to."

A few seconds later, there was the slamming of the door which signaled Snape's exit. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief that he was gone and went back to sucking gently on Remus' balls.

* * *

><p>Hermione spent the next two hours on her knees before her Professor, growing considerably more stiff and uncomfortable with each passing minute. She attended to the every need of her Professor's incredibly resilient cock. Each time he came, she would get a short break and then she was stroking or licking him back to hardness once more. Her poor mouth felt quite sore by the end of it, and she was sure her lips were red and swollen. Despite this, Hermione was pleased to be at her Professor's beck and call. By the end of the night she thought she probably <em>had <em>milked most of the cum from his body.

When she was finally permitted to emerge, she looked thoroughly disheveled. Her hair was mussed, her lips were swollen, her knees were raw, and she was quite sure that there were bits of her Professor's dried cum on her face.

Parker and Saunders stared at her as if they had never seen her before. It was quite obvious what she had been doing for the past two hours, not to mention the show Lupin had made her put on earlier. She would never be able to admonish these boys again. They had just been dismissed by Lupin and had turned to leave when he pointed his wand at them and murmured a spell.

"A memory charm?" Hermione wondered after they had gone, practically sagging with relief at the prospect.

"Oh, no, Miss Granger," said Lupin, smiling at her with a decidedly evil gleam in his eyes, "they'll remember. They simply won't be able to tell anyone about this."

Hermione's mouth dropped open in an expression of horrified disbelief.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This chapter is so fucked up, hope you like it anyway. Inspired by the line: "Babe, if it makes you cream your panties you can lick my shoes anytime you want." which is probably my favourite thing my boyfriends ever said, ha ha. Please review!<strong>


	7. Blindness

_AN: My computer has been out of commission, which is the reason this chapter has taken so long (I hand wrote the whole thing, which I totally hated at first, but it grew on me and now I actually kind of like doing it. I had to type it up and upload it at the library you guys! The library! I felt so filthy! The things I do for you people) so that's partly why it's been so long. Also, writers block a bit. Made it up for you with a super long chapter. Little bit of Ginny though, so sorry for those who don't like her, but I have a soft spot for the feisty red head. Another warning, some of ya'll might think this chapter is gross, just saying, but I hope you love it anyway. I am SO SORRY about how long it's been. HOPE YOU ENJOY! Please review ya'll._

* * *

><p>For at least the fifth time, Hermione leaned down to fiddle with the red and gray knit scarf that sat nestled within her book bag. The girl was visibly nervous. She had spent the Defense period perched anxiously on the edge of her chair and gnawing her lower lip into an attractively swollen bud. Not that it was particularly unusual for Hermione to find herself anxious and distracted in her DADA class. However, she was usually lost in fantasies about her rather cute, if she did say herself, Professor, whom she found so very distracting. Her attention was in some ways still being diverted by him, Hermione supposed. After all, she did plan to gift the oh so distracting scarf to her devilishly handsome Professor after class, something which drew nearer to an end due to the compulsion of the minute hand to draw ever closer to the large number 12 on the roman numeral style clock which would signal the end of their lesson. Without her permission she may add. The end of class and start of her potential humiliation would be signaled.<p>

Hermione bit her lip again in nerves. If she had had merely a platonic relationship with her Professor, giving him the scarf would be seen as just a friendly gesture, and doubtlessly everyone, especially Harry and Ron, who were somewhat clueless when it came to this kind of thing, _would_ see it that way, but Hermione knew better. Her relationship with Professor Lupin, or should she say Remus, had been far from just platonic lately. Over the past week and a half or so of her detentions they had been having, as Ginny would term it, gloriously kinky sex. So in light of this, Hermione wondered, would the scarf be more than, well, just a scarf, or would it be seen as some sort of symbolic gesture of her larger affections. She couldn't deny that she probably felt something more for the man, but she wasn't sure if she wanted him to know that yet, because she wasn't at all sure that he felt the same way. Remus was notorious for his commitment issues. Not that she wanted to commit to a full fledged relationship already, though secretly maybe she kind of did, but just…she was so confused. She loved having sex with him, but perhaps inevitably she was becoming closer to the man and beginning to desire another kind of intimacy with him. Was this just a consequence of fabulous sex, or was it something else? Would giving him this scarf change things between them? Would it make him think they had? Did she _want_ things to change between them. Glory her head hurt, Hermione thought. And Merlin, she just wanted to give a man a scarf. Who knew things were so complicated?

Darting her eyes to the clock, Hermione's brown orbs widened in alarm as they took in the fact that only two minutes remained of the lesson. Remus had ended class and everyone else had begun to pack up and stow away their things. Hermione had remained in her seat, so caught up in her thoughts had she been, her supplies still scattered around her. Quickly packing away her things, she stole herself and approached her Professor, idling nervously at his desk. When he had finished packing up his own materials, Remus took some time to study the young witch in front of him. Her hands were clasped behind her back, thrusting her chest forward so her breasts strained against the white, cotton fabric of her school issued blouse. It was nothing she did on purpose though, or even that she was aware of. As always, Hermione had that aura of innocence about her that never seemed to fade. She appeared to working her self up to something, chewing agitatedly on her lip and darting her eyes across the room, looking anywhere but him. He cleared his throat, seeming to startle her, though he certainly didn't mean to, for she jumped a bit, and made a small noise of surprise, which Remus privately thought was rather adorable. Hermione finally looked up at him and seeing the apprehension in her eyes he became concerned. Gathering her courage, she managed a small but genuine smile before reaching into her bag for her scarf, the article which had caused all this trouble. Hopefully the blasted garment would be worth it.

"I - I - Here," she said haltingly," holding the relatively lump free (she had smoothed out the most noticeable problems by magic) red and gray knit scarf.

Remus' eyes widened in undisguised shock.

"It's a scarf," Hermione explained needlessly. She had resumed her study of the floor. "I made it…for you," she finished shyly.

Remus could count on two hands the number of people who had ever bothered or cared enough to get him gifts, much less to make him one as Hermione had so obviously done. He found himself quite touched.

"Hermione, I - thank you -," Remus sputtered, rendered nearly speechless by her gesture.

Hermione smiled bashfully, happy that Remus was pleased with her gift. The Hogwarts castle wasn't exactly toasty warm in winter, and Remus instantly draped the scarf around his neck, a pleased smile blooming on his face. After all, like most men, like most _people_, he liked to receive gifts and he was especially delighted to receive one from Hermione. Hermione herself couldn't help but think that the scarf looked decidedly dashing against Remus' charcoal gray coat, and Remus, who was suddenly in an inordinately good mood despite the fact that he had to trek all the way out to the greenhouses through three foot snow drifts to see Sprout about something (after all, now he had a _scarf_, to keep him warm), flipped up his collar against the anticipated biting November wind and smiled beatifically at Hermione.

"I hope you don't think this gets you out of detention," he teased good naturedly.

Hermione widened her eyes in faux disbelief that she would ever be capable of committing such devious treachery as bribery. "Oh, no, Professor," she assured him, a devilish twinkle coming into her eyes as they bantered back and forth.

"Good, because I don't take bribes," Remus said sternly, but with a twinkle in his eye to match hers. He clutched at his precariously overstuffed suitcase and overflow of papers before never the less gentlemanly holding open the classroom door for her. Together, the two walked down to the front entrance hall in companionable silence. Walking a respectable distance apart, they might have appeared to the outside observer to have simply been two acquaintances, student and Professor, walking together out of convenience because they happened to be going the same direction, but little did they know that the entrance hall was actually the opposite of the direction that Hermione needed to be going, and that if one looked closer they would see how their hands sometimes brushed tantalizingly against each other as they passed and the rather stupidly lovesick smiles that adorned both Professor Lupin's and Hermione Granger's faces.

Before they parted ways in the entrance hall, a cold snowy draft blowing in from outside and making Hermione shiver a bit (she was beginning to wish she had knit a scarf for _herself_), Remus stopped Hermione with a firm hand on her arm.

"One thing, Miss Granger," he said, suddenly sounding quite serious.

Hermione raised an expectant and curious eyebrow. "Yes, Professor?"

Remus lent forward to breathe teasingly against the side of Hermione's neck, "Wear your knickers tonight."

Hermione's eyes widened considerably. Remus' instructions previously had been directly contrary to what he was telling her now, and when she had disobeyed him before she had been punished explicitly. Hermione opened her mouth to reply when Remus interrupted her before she could.

"Miss Granger, are you about to question me?" he asked, making it quite clear that this was _not_ a wise idea.

Hermione promptly clamped her mouth shut. She _had_ in fact been about to question him. Even though, given their sexual dynamic, she knew it would be foolish, it was still hard to tramp down her natural instincts.

Remus smirked smugly. "That's what I thought, Miss Granger."

Hermione spun on her heel and headed back to her head dorm.

* * *

><p>The time was 7:30 in the evening and Hermione was lounging about on the bed in her dorm. She was wearing quite the delicious set of wine colored under things and applying a complimentary shade of nail varnish. She felt pretty and feminine. The lingerie, which she had, at the urging of Fleur, of all people, purchased from Madame Malkin's, who was apparently originally some big French designer, was a deep shade of plum-red-wine and luxuriously silken. The bra was demi-cut and had her breasts spilling forth enticingly from it while the lace edged knickers cut up in the back to showcase her derriere.<p>

There was a knock at the door and Hermione cursed as it startled her, causing her to smudge the nail varnish into her cuticle.

"Come in." she called, irritated flicking her wand to fix the mistake she had made in her manicure. She knew it could only be Ginny at the door, as the red headed girl was the only one, besides Harry and Ron (who were currently serving a Detention for agitating Snape) who knew her password and had access to her dorm. She managed to slip into a rose colored robe just as Ginny entered the room. Ginny raised an eyebrow at Hermione's attire, which the Head Girl had to admit was somewhat unusual for her. At this time of night she could usually be found lounging around in pyjama pants and a sleep shirt.

"Hey girly girl," Ginny greeted her affectionately.

"Hey," Hermione replied. "I'm just getting ready," she gestured around her to encompass the contents of the room, including her sparse makeup kit and the nail varnish that were basically the sole contents of her beauty regiment.

"Ah," said Ginny, smiling and flopping down next to Hermione on the bed, "for your _detention_," she winked exaggeratedly.

"Gin," Hermione sighed, finishing off her nails and capping the polish bottle in exasperation.

"Oh, I have no doubt you'll be being punished," the red head continued, winking hugely again.

Hermione blushed prettily, only conformingly the devilish Weasley's suspicions, and Ginny giggled madly.

"So…" she said expectantly, drawing out the word and kicking her feet up into the air hyperactively in her excitement.

"So…what," Hermione responded, absolutely deadpan.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "_So_, are you going to tell me how the sex is with your Big Bad Professor or not?"

Hermione's face burst into flame and she gasped about for a few minutes like a water deprived fish.

"Ginny," Hermione groaned, once she had a regained minimal control of her breathing capabilities.

"What?" she protested innocently. "Inquiring minds need to know!"

"Inquiring minds most certainly do not need to know," Hermione said firmly. "I'm sorry Ginny, but it's really none of your business. This is between me and Professor Lupin."

This statement elicited an excited squeal from the vicinity of the red headed girl. "Ooh, he makes you call him Professor, does he? Kinky!"

Hermione chucked a pillow at her.

"Fine," Ginny pouted eventually, "but at least tell me if it's good or not. It _has _to be good, right? I mean, with the way you've been walking and how you're going around blushing all the time now like a walking Weasley or something -"

"Yes!" Hermione burst out, cutting her off before said anything even more traumatizing or embarrassing. Honestly, why she was even friends with this girl. "It's more than…" she paused here, at something of a loss for words. "It's very, very mindblowingly good." She finished decisively, with a heavy blush.

Ginny smirked. "I'll bet."

* * *

><p>When Hermione entered the office of her Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher she was almost immediately accosted by the man. Two arms encircled her waist and pulled her back into a warm and solid body. Before her mind and startled senses had time to comprehend this, a cool swath of fabric descended over her eyes. She thought, in the glimpse of a second that she saw it for, that the blindfold might have been a Gryffindor school tie. Hermione gasped as darkness surrounded her and she was inundated with a flood of sensations from her other senses. She could smell the musky, chocolaty, bookish smell of Remus and also feel the presence of his body behind her in the heat and weight of him. Her breath quickened with her loss of sight. Before she could even begin to get her bearings, Remus placed his hand beneath the cusp of her bum and began guiding it up. Once he was cupping it and lightly squeezing her right cheek he began to ease down the zipper of her gray skirt with his other hand. Hermione could already feel his hardness against her and she felt flutters stir in her stomach from all that she was experiencing, and the fact that Remus taken control so quickly and was now undressing her.<p>

She wriggled free of her skirt, in turn wriggling her delectable arse against his erection, and strained up onto her tip toes so that her center was poised just above her Professor's tell tale hardness, already prominent for her to perch above. Remus continued to undress her, becoming more forceful with his actions. He pulled harshly on her tie to loosen it before yanking it free of her blouse, and then spread his hands across her midriff, easing them up the expanse of her stomach and ribcage. He came to cup her breasts, still incased as they were in her silken bra, and paused to palm them roughly, before suddenly tearing her free of her blouse. Hermione gasped and jumped at the startling action, inadvertently arching against her Professor and his aching member. The _**'POP POP POP' **_of the buttons releasing and flying everywhere was magnified to Hermione's sensitive ears, sounding like the shots of a muggle BB-Gun.

Hermione was feeling quite off balanced and already aroused. It seemed like she had just arrived for her detention -and really, she had- and already she found herself half naked with yet another ruined garment hanging off her, and all this without Remus having even uttered one instruction or spoken a single word. Now, he guided her out of her blouse (doubtlessly, Hermione reflected distantly through the haze of her already potent arousal, he had done something abhorrent such as toss it carelessly to the floor, not that it mattered what with the buttons having been torn free…) and was prompting her up what she thought was the staircase that led to his quarters, despite the fact that she couldn't see. With gentle nudges and light spanks to her butt, Hermione was being guided up the stairs from behind. She stumbled repeatedly, and although Remus was very careful to make sure she never fell, her very much enjoyed the way her perky, little arse arched up and was put on display every time she pitched perilously forward. He also enjoyed being the one to catch her and save her from falling. He very much liked the way she felt in his arms, like he was protecting her from harm.

Once Hermione reached the landing at the top of the stairs Remus took her by both her hands and led her through the door to his bedroom, which she had been in before and so was familiar with to a degree, even blindfolded. He sat Hermione down on his bed, enjoying the sight of her on it, and also the way her breasts jiggled deliciously when she bounced a bit as she adjusted to landing there. Hermione could feel his eyes on her, and a pretty, rosy blush suffused her skin. She heard shuffling then, and perceived Remus kneeling before her. She blushed harder at the implication of what his position might mean he was going to do, but instead of spreading her legs and bending his head toward her, Remus began massaging her upper thighs, prompting Hermione's head to fall back in pleasure and pleased "mmhing" sounds to escape from her mouth. After continuing his massage of her upper thighs and bestowing kisses and sucks to both the upper and lower regions of them, Remus began rolling down her gray knee socks, planting kisses along her calves as he went. He discarded her shoes and socks, tossing them who knows where (Hermione was too lost in a pleasant buzz of hazy pleasure to care at that moment), and then continued his delightfully erotic massage on her feet. He worked over her feet just as Hermione had done for him in her second detention, what seemed like forever ago, before leaning down and bestowing a kiss to the top of one. Hermione blushed and smiled bashfully at the gesture. She had thought Remus finished, when he lent down and engulfed one of her delicately painted toes in his warm, wet mouth and sucked. Hermione giggled in shocked delight. After a pause, she could feel Remus standing up and then he was guiding her hands together in front of her and tying them with what she guessed to be another school tie.

"Kneel on the bed," he rasped, his first words to her of the night.

Hermione hastened to obey, scrambling up onto the bed and, in her blindness, kneeling before where she judged the headboard to be.

"Good girl," Remus murmured, giving her a swat on the butt and adjusting her position slightly. She felt her Professor grab the tie that bound her hands together and tie it firmly to part of the head board. Remus shifted on the bed so that he was behind her, and Hermione felt the deliciously vulnerable tingle in her lower parts caused by his dominant presence behind her. It was then that he lent forward and spread her legs for her, slowly, achingly slowly, apart.

"Keep them there," he commanded firmly. "Do not let them move."

"Yes, Sir," Hermione replied breathlessly.

His hands gripped her calves, holding her legs forcibly apart, and he bent his head forward to attach his wicked lips to her upper thigh. He swirled his tongue up and down the expanse of her thigh, pausing to suck, nibble, and give leg melting attention here and there. When Hermione thought she was close to coming just from Remus' attention to her thigh, he stopped, gave her two seconds to attempt to catch her breath and get a hold of herself, and then switched to her other thigh, upon which he bestowed the same treatment as the previous. Hermione's thighs were now quaking from the force of her desire, and she moaned wantonly. Remus licked closer and closer to her silk covered center, teasing her. He was _so close_; so tantalizingly, unbearably, earthshateringly close. And suddenly he was there, his tongue hot and thick against her through the fabric of her knickers. Hermione bit her lip hard to keep from crying out. As Remus swiped his tongue along the lines of her lower lips through the thin, wet silk of her knickers, Hermione squirmed against him. He tightened his hold on her upper calves.

"Do. Not. Move." he growled against her, and the vibrations this caused against her made her jerk erratically, contrary to his order. Despite this, he continued to lick and suck her through her silken knickers, the tufts of his soft hair tickling the tops of her thighs. He began darting his tongue into her passage, pushing it in as far he could despite the constriction of the fabric. Hermione bucked her hips and groaned, longing for more. She could almost feel Remus smirking against her, that wicked man, and she tightened the tops of her thighs around his head, attempting to draw him closer without moving the position of her calves and knees, as he had ordered her not to, from the bed. He pried himself loose from the prison of her thighs and made a derisive, scolding noise in the back of his throat.

"You're being a very naughty girl, Miss Granger. Very disobedient. If you fail my next test, I'll have to punish you very severely."

Hermione couldn't stop herself from shivering in anticipation. She felt shamed, but also enjoyed the reprimand, and was torn between wanting to obey her Professor, and wanting to disobey him strictly for the fun of experiencing her consequences. She gasped at the sudden rush of air as her kickers were torn abruptly down and her dripping pussy was exposed to the cool air. Remus dragged the knickers down her thighs, spreading them still further till the knickers pulled tautly at her lower mid thighs, stretching and spreading them.

"Don't let them fall," Professor Lupin warned in a low, rough voice.

Hermione could only whimper in response, but fortunately it seemed that Remus didn't need any more assurance than that, because he once again began lapping at her center. Now her _bare_ center. Hermione let out a keening moan. It was as if, to him, she was a goddess and the altar at which he worshipped was the one between her thighs. He licked and sucked between her lower lips before narrowing in and flicking his tongue across her sensitive bud of flesh. Remus continued to focus on her clit, swirling his tongue around it in an intoxicating almost drugging manner that had Hermione groaning, clenching her thighs and moaning his name with all abandon. Then Remus sucked hard on her clit, causing Hermione to scream, before unleashing a barrage of flicks against the nub which eventually had Hermione coming explosively around him, his head trapped between her now quivering thighs. Hermione's legs turned to jelly in the aftermath of her orgasm, and she collapsed in a boneless heap on the sheets, Remus' orders to maintain her kneeling position and not, under any circumstances, let her knickers fall, temporarily forgotten. Remus let Hermione repose in dazed, post orgasmic bliss for a few minutes before harshly, and startlingly yanking off her kickers from where they had settled around her calves.

"I warned you not to let them fall," he stated harshly, his voice practically a growl.

Hermione, still reeling from the throes of her recent orgasm, struggled to comprehend what her Professor was saying. She had dimly registered that she had been stripped completely of her knickers by Remus, and that he was using an angry, not just a stern, tone with her, but that was about all at the moment.

"Kneel!" he barked, pulling upward on a still panting Hermione's arms, forcing her into her previous kneeling position, which had collapsed during her orgasm shortly before. Remus slapped Hermione's still bruised bottom sharply and she jerked. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to sit normally these days, what with all the abuse her arse was taking. The sounds of Remus shuffling and moving around came from behind her, mingling with Hermione's still heavy panting. When he began letting out little grunts of exertion Hermione's eyes widened behind her blindfold as she began to suspect what he was doing. Perhaps this was her punishment? He was getting off without her? But he had just brought her to mindblowing orgasm, and although Hermione would've gladly had sex with him, she was very much satisfied at the moment. It didn't make sense. As she heard him find his release with a cry of her name her stomach sparked and she found herself becoming aroused all over again. She was breathing heavily and working herself up to another state of arousal when quite suddenly and shockingly her rather used and abused knickers were shoved into her mouth.

Hermione gasped around the balled up, sticky wad of fabric. The panties seemed to be wet with more than just her own juices and the moisture from Remus' mouth though, Hermione noticed. There was a substantial amount of a wet, gooey substance, thick in the middle of the knickers, that Hermione thought was probably Remus' cum. It certainly _tasted_ like Remus' cum, to the best of Hermione's knowledge, and she did have some authority on the subject. So _that's _what he had been doing earlier! Wanking off into knickers. And now they were in her mouth. She should have found this disgusting, but instead she found it dangerously exciting and erotic. She tingled over the debase quality of the whole thing. Maybe this was a part of her punishment? The knickers in the mouth?

Hermione could feel Remus looming behind her, his naked and newly re-hardened cock brushing against her arched arse. She groaned around the panties that were taking up the majority of the space in her mouth, the sensation and idea of her gag only heightening her excitement. Hermione squirmed anxiously, trying to get any and all contact she could with Remus' cock. Remus though, the devil, was a relentless tease and was only deeming to torture her with fleeting touches; brushing his member lightly against her slit before drawing it away again, dragging it along the very tops of her thighs, letting the tip of it touch her swollen clit for just the barest instant. He continued this torture for a time before quite suddenly slamming into her full hilt!

Hermione was not ashamed to admit that she screamed out loud, from shock and pleasure both. Remus continued to drive into her relentlessly, hammering her over and over again, the rough slapping of their skin, Remus' grunts of exertion, and Hermione's screams and moans of pleasure echoing throughout the room. Hermione could feel herself coming closer and closer to her release. Her breath hitched as over and over Remus hit that spot inside her that had her eyes rolling back in her head in bliss. He grunted as he hit that spot once more and Hermione's inner muscles clenched around him in ecstasy as she came and came hard, hurtling into her orgasm. Remus followed her, finishing in tandem with her. When it was over, both of them panted heavily, Hermione with some difficulty given the constriction the knickers in her mouth caused. Remus lay atop her, and their bodies were slick with sweat.

Eventually Remus reached forward and gently removed the wadded up knickers from Hermione's mouth. He then leaned over her body and untied her hands from the head board and in turn from each other. She flexed them sleepily, having pulled roughly on her restraints throughout the evening in the course of her passion. Remus, either forgetting about or simply choosing to leave on her blindfold, snuggled up against his companion. The two clung to each other in a clump and soon lapsed in a hazy, post-coital nap.

* * *

><p>When she awoke, Hermione was engulfed by a pleasantly warm body, being spooned from behind, with muscular arms wrapped around her waist and pulling her into the body behind her. She enjoyed simply handing herself over the pleasant sensations her body was experiencing, including the dull ache between her thighs. As Remus nuzzled into the back of her neck mumbling incoherently, Hermione snuggled back into his warmth. He began to stir shortly thereafter, moving one of his hands down between her thighs, and beginning to stroke her absently as he woke up. Seeming more aware, he eased her on to her back and began retying the tie that still hung about her wrists and then refastened it to the headboard.<p>

"Remus," Hermione protested sleepily, "I'm quite tired-"

"Be quiet," Remus instructed raspingly. "Or do I have to shove your knickers in your mouth again and force you to be quiet, Miss Granger? Either way is fine. Hermione responded with silence and no further protest. She thought it dangerous to agitate Remus at this moment in time. No doubt her real punishment was about to commence. He finished tying her up and stretched her out across the expanse of the bed. Then, although Hermione couldn't be sure because, after all this time, she was still blindfolded, sat back on his heels to survey her. She could feel his eyes raking appraisingly over her body, splayed across the bed for his viewing pleasure as she now was. Her arms were straining, stretched out and affixed above her to the headboard, while her body was laid out across the bed. She felt Remus stalk forward and spread her legs before hitching them up over his shoulders. She hooked her ankles behind his head automatically. He began pumping into her roughly with no warning, though she did not need much of one as she was already dripping wet. Hermione's orgasm quickly began to build, despite Remus' utter lack of concern for her. He may have been taking her in a rather crude way, but the position was quite good for her, Hermione thought to herself as she groaned with pleasure. Just as she was on the precipice and about to come, Remus withdrew from her and it became clear what her real punishment for having let her panties drop earlier would be. He had taken her to the very edge and abandoned her there.

He was now unwinding her legs from his neck, his cock conspicuously NO LONGER IN HER BODY! Hermione groaned and tried to lock her legs around him in protest, gripping tight with her thighs, but her effort was futile, and Remus pried her off him. In the aftermath, Hermione whimpered as every once in a while Remus' still achingly hard cock came into contact with some part of her body. And just what was he going to do with _that_ she wondered. Would he wank off again? Not to sound incredibly smug, but there was no way that was as satisfying as having sex with her. There just wasn't.

Remus laid her legs flat on the bed and, to Hermione's great shock, began sliding what seemed to me her greatly abused knickers (and they had been so pretty at the beginning of the evening) up her thighs and back where they traditionally belonged. At this point in the evening Hermione's knickers had been subjected to a gushing waterfall of wetness from between her thighs, been wanked off into by Remus, and been crumpled into an unsightly ball and shoved into her mouth. All and all, not the kind of treatment delicate silk responded well to or deserved. It felt deliciously humiliating and naughty to have the used knickers put back on her by Remus. She could feel the stickiness of their combined bodily fluids on the panties. Hermione should have been disgusted by this, but instead she reveled in the gross humiliation of the matter. However, she was soon distracted by the fact that Remus was beginning to run his cock up and down all over her body. Her ran it over and up and down her thighs and around her bellybutton.

He continued in this manner, running his dick around and between her breasts, enjoying the way his member looked against them and also the way it made them bounce, and Hermione thought he would, for lack of a better term, 'titty fuck' her again, as he had in a detention last week. It had certainly been deliciously degrading. But when his breathing became rough and irregular he raised his body up and over Hermione's and began thrusting against her face. As he bucked against her, his balls smacking against her chin, Hermione gasped in shock, but couldn't help releasing a deluge of wetness into her already soiled knickers. Remus was committing such a derogatory act against her, and though it shamed and humiliated her, Hermione couldn't help but be aroused by what he was doing as he continued to thrust against her. Against her face! Remus only did it two or three times before coming explosively, shooting thick streams, of white, ropey cum all over her face. Minute's later, as they both panted in the aftershock, Remus summoned a warm, wet washcloth and began to tenderly wipe the cum from his young partners lovely face.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Facial! That is all. Just kidding! It's three in the morning, so I'm too tired to double proof read this, so drop me a review and let me know about mistakes because I will fix them pronto! Or, you know, drop me a review just because you liked it, or hated it, or have concrit, or whatever. <em>

_ETA: Man, this was riddled with errors before I proof read it again and fixed it, sorry._


	8. Interlude

_AN: Well, it's a good news bad news situation, folks. The good news, The Giants won! (sorry Pats fans and people who don't care), the bad news is that this chapter actually doesn't involve any sex. I know, WHAT? But, it DOES involve one Sirius Black (squee, I know!), so hopefully that makes up for the no sex thing somewhat (and really, isn't any thing with Sirius Black sort of like sex all on it's own) and I adored writing it. Please read, enjoy, and review_.

* * *

><p>"Well, you're in a suspiciously good mood," Sirius observed over his firewhiskey. The mischievous animagus and his werewolf friend were out having a drink at the Three Broomsticks.<p>

Remus raised an eyebrow wryly over his own drink. "I'm in a good mood and it's suspicious?" he questioned amusedly.

"This soon after the full moon? Yeah, it is," Sirius said frankly. "What's going on Moony? What's got you all happy?"

Remus' immediate instinct with Sirius was to deny, even though he knew it was futile. "Nothing," he said, darting a glance down to his firewhiskey. But he had never been a good liar. That had always been Peter's forte. Should have been something of a clue, that, now that he thought about it.

"Aha!" said Sirius loudly, jumping up onto the booth seat and pointing an accusing finger at Remus. "You _are_ hiding something! I knew it, I knew it! Now tell ol' Padfoot what it is."

Remus sighed. "Sirius everyone in the pub is staring at us now."

Sirius, used to unwanted bouts of attention due to his own notoriety after his declaration of innocence, simply plastered a cheeky smile on his face before waving gleefully to the other gaping Broomstick's patrons, quite a few of whom were now staring. Remus simply rolled his eyes.

"Besides," he muttered, studying the amber contents of his whiskey glass and swirling it around, watching the ice cubes clink together, "I'm not hiding anything."

"Moony, you're a bad liar," Sirius said flatly, leaning back in the booth seat and spreading his arms along the back of it. "Don't make me turn into Padfoot and unleash my puppy dog eyes on you. You know how deadly they are, mate."

Remus sighed long-sufferingly and pushed his hair back from his forehead in agitation, crossing his arms defensively over his chest. "Fine I'm…seeing someone," he admitted slowly.

Sirius leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table and let out a low wolf whistle. "Hot damn, Moony, now wonder your color's looking so good." Of course, in Sirius' mind 'seeing someone' automatically meant you were sleeping with them, and in this instance he wasn't wrong, so Remus ignored the other man's assumptions for the moment.

"So who is she, mate?" Sirius asked.

Remus avoided his old friends eyes. It wasn't that he was ashamed of Hermione; far from it, actually. He considered himself lucky to have her. He was lucky just to have a friendship with the girl, he should be worshipping the gods over the fact that she was giving him the time of day sexually.

"Just…Sirius, leave it," Remus advised.

This of course, was a notion impossible for Sirius to follow. He adopted a wounded look that held a bit of his real feelings behind it. Remus sighed again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that tonight. And he usually had such a good time with Sirius, his best mate. He knew the other man would take the mickey out on him for it, but if he couldn't tell Sirius about this, his oldest friend, than who the hell could he tell? Taking a generous swig of firewhiskey, Remus bit the proverbial bullet.

"Okay," he said nervously. "Alright," he gulped. "It's Hermione Granger" he wiped his forehead of sweat and then waited for the oncoming explosion. Sirius didn't disappoint, practically doing a spit take and in fact choking on his drink, smoke issuing forth from his mouth and nose.

"Holy shit, Moons," he choked when he had finally recovered somewhat.

"I know. It's…yeah," Remus said quietly, cupping his glass and resuming his study of the dark amber liquid within. _Wow, way to be articulate on the matter, Remus,_ he admonished himself.

"I can't believe you're nailing a student," Sirius said, disbelief evident in his voice.

Remus raised an eyebrow, "You disapprove?" he questioned, surprised.

"Not at all, Sirius said. "She's of age. Besides, I bet she's a saucy little minx behind her pile of books. Not bad looking either, eh?" he said, nudging Remus in the side with his elbow, a smirk on his face.

"Sirius," Remus growled in a low warning.

"Yes?" Sirius replied innocently. "Touchy, touchy," he said when Remus just glared, taking another sip of his firewhiskey. "You always have been possessive of the girls you like," he finished, attempting, rather transparently in Remus' opinion, to be sly.

Remus shrugged, never one to deny his faults.

"Aha!" Sirius cried again, like a crazed detective in some cheesy muggle film. "He doesn't even deny it!"

"Yes, Sirius," Remus explained slowly, as if talking to a child, which in some ways he was. "The wolf in me can make me quite possessive at times." This was true, but he knew it hadn't been what Sirius was referring to.

Sirius folded his arms stubbornly across his muscled chest. "That's not what I meant, Remus, and you know it. You like her."

Remus sighed, yet again, in exasperation. "Of course I like the girl Sirius, I'm sleeping with her."

Sirius scoffed. "You act as if that's some kind of prerequisite."

Remus leveled a stare at him. "Well, for some people, it is," he said pointedly.

Sirius waved this away. "Details. The point is that you like her!"

"You're like a gossiping sixth year girl, Padfoot," Remus said with a teasing grin. Said animagus huffed indignantly. "I don't know why you're so thrilled about this, honestly," Remus finished glumly, shuffling his feet under the table.

"I don't know why you're not," Sirius pointed out.

"Well, it isn't as if it can go anywhere, is it?"

"So you _do_ want it to? Go somewhere that is," Sirius ventured cautiously.

"Godric help me Sirius, yes. I think I've begun to fall for her."

"Oh," said Sirius, falling back in his booth seat, a puff of stale air issuing from it as he landed heavily, not quite so enthusiastic now that Remus had finally conceded his point.

"Yes, oh."

"So what's the problem then?" Sirius asked, knowing what Remus' response would be but asking anyway.

Remus stared at him blankly, wondering how such a supposedly smart man could be so incredibly clueless.

"Sirius you can't honestly believe Hermione would ever want to pursue a relationship based on anything more than sex with me. It's impossible. Why would she want anything to do with me in a romantic way? I'm too old, too-"

Sirius cut him off with an exasperated eye roll. "Too poor, too dangerous, too much of a werewolf. Spare me the self loathing bullshit, Moony, I've heard it all before. That girl would be damn lucky to have you. Actually, you'd be damn lucky to have each other. I happen to think you'd be really good together. I mean, you've always got on so great."

"I know, and we still do, but…I'd drag her down, Pads."

"Why do you always do this?" Sirius demanded angrily.

"Do what?" Remus asked tiredly.

"Tear yourself down like you think you're this abominable piece of shit unworthy of love. No one else thinks that you know. It's shit Remus, that's what it is!"

"Sirius, I'm a werewolf-"

"La-di-fuckin-da. Hermione found that out her third year and she didn't tell anyone. She obviously cared for you even then. And then she practically came face to face with your wolfy self at the end of the year-"

"Wonder she still speaks to me," Remus muttered.

"AND," Sirius continued loudly, "she doesn't hold it against you at all. The girl clearly likes and respects you, Remus. She's probably falling for you too."

"Society would give us hell-"

"**FUCK** society!" shouted Sirius, slamming his firewhiskey glass down emphatically on the table and receiving a rather affronted look from an older gentlemen in pinstriped robes, not that he cared. Remus shot the wizard a vaguely apologetic look, not really caring much what he thought of them either at the moment.

"You know Hermione wouldn't care about any of that, mate," Sirius said more quietly, leaning in closer to speak to Remus more privately. "Their scorn would just affront her and make her more determined than ever to love you."

Against his will, Remus' heart sputtered in his chest when Sirius brought up the prospect of Hermione fighting for him, defending him, and maybe even coming to love him. But it was useless. All of this hypothetical conversation was uselessness, because he was projecting and she didn't even feel that way about him anyway. The scarf was just a friendly gesture. One Sirius most definitely did _not_ need to know about.

"That's another thing though," Remus said, partly in an attempt to distract himself from his current train of thought and partly because it was something that was nagging at him. "What if I'm just," he hesitated to use the phrase, "a pet project to her, on some level, like the House Elves. What if-"

"You think she's doing you for the cause?" Sirius asked archly. "Give me a break Remus, and give her some more credit while you're at it. She would never do that to you."

"I know that, but maybe subconsciously…"

"You know what I think?" Sirius said, interrupting him.

"No," said Remus, "But I have the feeling you're going to tell me."

"I think you're making bullshit excuses because you're scared she might actually feel something more than lust for you."

Remus didn't concede this point, but he didn't rebut it either.

"Just think about what I've said, mate," Sirius said, reaching out to clap the emotionally downtrodden werewolf on the shoulder. Remus nodded. After a few moments of contemplative silence he snorted into his drink and then began laughing.

"What's funny?" Sirius wondered.

"You," Remus choked out. "Giving me advice," He sobered. "That was usually my role back in the day."

Sirius smiled. "Yes, but this is a matter on the ladies. And you were always petrified of girls in school, so you didn't have any _practical_ experience in that arena."

Remus sputtered indignantly. "I was not petrified of girls! Maybe petrified that girls would be petrified of _me_ if they found out about my furry little problem."

Now it was Sirius' turn to snort into his firewhiskey. "Well, you certainly don't have to worry about that with Hermione, now do you?"

"Cheers to that," Remus said, and the men clinked glasses and drank.

"How did you two get together anyway?" Sirius asked curiously. "I reckon that's an interesting story. Did it happen in the library?"

Remus rolled his eyes and Sirius held up his hands as if to say 'What? Innocent Question'.

"No," the reluctant werewolf admitted. "I noticed she was distracted in my classes and gradually began to perceive that she was attracted to me-"

"Smell it on her, did you?" Sirius snickered.

Remus narrowed his eyes. "Yes, her pheromones started to go haywire around me and a few times I smelt arousal on her in class that I connected to myself."

Sirius' eyes widened almost comically. "Holy shit, Moony!"

Remus, despite himself, couldn't hold back a smirk of his own.

"So how long did it take you to grow some balls and approach her?" Sirius asked.

"Well, at first I thought it was just a childish crush and that it would run it's course, but her feelings turned out to be persistent, and then there was an opportunity to give her detention…"

"Oho!" Sirius crowed gleefully. "Did you make her call you Professor, you kinky bastard?"

Remus was unable to withhold a blush, which, at his age was quite ridiculous, no doubt letting Sirius in on the credibility of his statement, but plowed on nevertheless. "Hermione came to the detention and I made my intentions clear. She was…receptive."

Sirius smirked. "I'll bet she was. Miss Granger's always been a swotty one. I'd love to unwrap that one in the bedroom if she'd let me. You're a lucky man, Moony. I'm sure she was very receptive to playing naughty school girl to your stern Professor," he dissolved into mirthful giggles. Finally noticing Remus' heated glare after several minutes, Sirius sobered.

"Am I wrong, Moony?"

Remus sighed tiredly and massaged his forehead. "You're not wrong, Sirius, you're just an arsehole."

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><p><em>AN: The Dude Abides. So there it is folks! The interlude. I know it's short, but hopefully you enjoyed it and I just had to put it in here, because I think it gives you an important insight into how Remus is feeling, plus, HELLO, Sirius! God, I love that man. I had a crush on him even before I knew what a crush was (third grade). Besides, I enjoy writing Remus and Sirius together way too much. But they are so much fun! I sort of base their interaction a bit on House and Wilson from House MD with Remus of course being the adorable oncologist. Except not divorced three times. ANYWAY, hope you enjoy this little treat, and please review, even if you just did for the last chapter. You guys have no idea how much I appreciate it and how much my heart pings every time I see one in my inbox. As always, please let me know of any mistakes or constructive criticism. Peace and love!<em>


	9. Possiblities

_AN: Last Chapter, babydolls. I know, I can't believe it either. This story has been my baby. I hope you love it, but I'm going to continue posting, and I have other stories in the works, so check out my other stuff._

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><p>As it drew nearer to Friday and Hermione's last detention with Remus, Hermione grew more and more depressed. She was scared that when her detentions were over, her relationship with Remus would be discontinued, and that was most definitely something she didn't want. However, she wasn't sure how to pursue any sort of real relationship with Remus. Did he even want one, or was he just dallying with her. Maybe all she was was good shag? Maybe Remus wouldn't even want anything to do with her after she was out of school. Once that kinky aspect of their relationship was eliminated would he even be interested in her sexually anymore? They'd never even had non kinky sex, except that one time in the morning, after she had slept over. There was another thing. Twice now Hermione had fallen asleep in Remus' arms, something that had made her head go all floaty and her heart go all melty, and cuddled with him. He had actively participated in the snuggling, spooning her and clutching her to his body, nuzzling into her neck and mumbling her name in his sleep. That had to be a sign that it was more than just sex to him, didn't it?<p>

He obviously felt affection for her, but he always had, even when she had been a child. Had his affection morphed into something more than just platonic over the past years, or even over the past few weeks or months? They were certainly friends, had been for years, but now the question was, were they just friends with benefits, as cliché as that sounded, or were they something more? Did they have the potential to be something more? In the end, Hermione was only giving herself a headache obsessing over it all, and she decided to leave everything till the eve of the detention. But now that evening had arrived.

As she stood outside the door to the DADA classroom, where Remus had directed her for this last detention, Hermione couldn't help but feel somewhat subdued. Taking a deep breath and trying to put on a brave face, Hermione knocked.

"Come in," came the call from inside.

When Hermione entered, she saw that Remus sat perched atop his desk and that they were alone. She breathed a sigh of relief. Remus hopped off the desk and stalked towards her, circling her like he was the hungry wolf and her the frightened rabbit. She felt like his prey, and she liked it.

"I don't even have to bend you over to know that you're wearing knickers. You do it purposely to vex me. I think you like being punished by me don't you, you wicked, little witch?" Remus said softly behind her neck, his voice nevertheless cracking through the air like a whip, making Hermione shiver.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione said, hanging her head in shame. "I like being punished by you, and I know that I deserve it very much. I'm a very naughty girl."

"Yes you are," Remus assessed. "Now bend over." Hermione obeyed immediately, bending over a front row desk, hers in fact. Remus flipped up her skirt, smacked her arse hard, and then shockingly tore her knickers right from her body. Hermione gasped in shock, arching her butt, her plain, black thong was quite skimpy, but it still hurt to have it torn from her body.

"Get up!" Remus ordered and Hermione stood on shaky, jelly legs. Remus held her ruined knickers I his hand, and as he approached her, he thrust them into her face. Hermione struggled not to flinch.

"Smell," Remus commanded, and Hermione dutifully lent forward and sniffed her own knickers. They were musky with her scent, and she spotted a damp spot on them, the result of her arousal.

"Do you smell your desire for me, Miss Granger?" Remus questioned. "Because I smell it on you. Every day. In class. Instead of paying attention and listening to me lecture, you spend your time fantasizing about me and drenching your panties over me like a filthy, little slut. I know. I smell it on you. It's very distracting. Take them," he thrust the knickers physically right into her face, practically shoving them into her mouth in a replay of a few nights ago. Hermione took them, keeping them against her face in a bid not to anger her Professor.

"Taste yourself," Remus demanded. "Taste how wet you are for me, Hermione." Tentatively, Hermione flicked out a delicately, pink tongue and lapped at the sticky, wet spot on her ravaged knickers. She found more wetness gushing to her center as she was forced to commit the degrading act. As she tasted herself, evidence of her own desire for Remus on her tongue, more wetness pooled between her thighs and she moaned wantonly.

"You like the taste of yourself, don't you, you dirty, little girl?" Remus asked, as Hermione continued to lick the growing spot of wetness on her thong.

"Mmm," she moaned.

As if solely to be contrary, Remus snatched the knickers out of her hands.

"Push apart two of the desks," he instructed, gesturing to her desk and the desk of Padma Patail, who sat next to her on one side, her boys were on the other. Hermione did so, making sure to bend over as far as possible as she shoved them apart in order to display her arse attractively to Remus. After completely her task, Hermione turned around expectantly to face Remus, awaiting further instructions. Instead of giving her any verbal orders, Remus strode towards her and the desks and lifted first one of her legs, then the other, so that she was straddling the two desks like a gymnast doing the front splits. She was spread completely and unabashedly before Remus, her micro-mini, school girl, skirt doing nothing to cover her, sat attractively over her thighs, her knee socks and Mary Janes completing the picture of a schoolgirl spread wantonly before her Professor.

"This time if you move your legs, you'll fall," Remus informed her. Little did Hermione know that earlier her Professor had cast a cushioning charm on the floor beneath the desks, so if she did indeed fall she wouldn't be hurt.

"Touch yourself Hermione. Play with yourself like you do when no one's watching. Show me what a dirty, little girl you are. Show me how much you want me."

Staring directly into Remus' eyes, but a bashful blush blooming on her face nonetheless, Hermione reached down between her thighs. She began to slowly stroke between her lower lips.

"Remus," she sighed breathily, as she stroked herself. Circling her clit wildly, she worked herself into a frenzy, her breathing hitching on her Professor's name as she worked her finger around her clit without mercy. Slipping two fingers inside her slick passage she began to scissor them inside her body and pump them in and out of her sleeve. She could feel herself beginning to build towards an orgasm already, Remus' name on the tip of her tongue, dripping from her mouth, which was open with a cry of bliss, with every pump of her fingers.

"Stop," Remus commanded suddenly. Hermione, so caught up in the throes of herself induced passion, did not comprehend his order. She continued to slide her fingers in and out of her body in hazy, building ecstasy, not paying head to Remus' command to stop, not even really hearing it. This did not please him in the least.

"I said stop," he growled, physically wrenching her hand from her center. Hermione gaped at him in disbelief. "And you will do what I tell you to, Miss Granger."

"What?" Hermione whimpered, desperate with desire and confused about why Remus had halted her pleasure.

"I told you to stop, Miss Granger, so you'll stop, no matter if it leaves you unsatisfied. You're pleasure is not what's important here, mine is. You're here to service me, to get _me _off! Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Sir," gasped Hermione, panting in exhaustion, having brought herself to the brink and then had it stopped, she was out of breath and feeling wound very taut.

"That's right," said Remus decisively, giving a slap to one of Hermione's thighs, making her flinch, so sensitive was all of her body at the moment.

"It's my privilege to finish what I had you start, " Remus informed her, and Hermione nodded weakly. "Take off your tie and blouse," he commanded her. Hermione fiddled with her tie and buttons, eventually shrugging out of the garment and letting it fall to the floor. While she did so, Remus unfastened his trousers and walked to his desk, grabbing that oh so wicked ruler which had punished Hermione so thoroughly these past two weeks.

**THWACK**

The blow came hard on her thigh, in the same place where Remus had slapped her earlier with his hand, but it was not really unexpected. The sting had flutters erupting in Hermione's lower abdomen, and she leaked more wetness out of her tingling center. The slap also prompted her to sit up straighter and spread her thighs even further apart, an action which had Remus nodding in approval.

"That's better," he said.

Opening his trousers and boxers in one go, Remus and his raging hard cock advanced on Hermione. When he stood before her, his cock standing at attention, straining towards her, Remus tenderly stroked the thigh where his sharp slaps had stung. Taking hold of his member and directing it between her folds , immediately prompting throaty moans from Hermione, he slid into her slick passage bluntly, pumping in and out of her hard with a series of grunts and groans mixed with her breathy moans and sighs of pleasure. She braced herself on his shoulders, holding on tight and digging in her hands to keep from losing her balance and tumbling down to the floor. That would decidedly ruin the mood. Due to her warm up activities earlier, Hermione was quickly on the road to orgasm, and soon found herself clenching around Remus' rock hard cock, and coming with abandon.

Remus withdrew from her, as hard as ever, and dragged his cock up her heaving body, smearing the precum that was leaking copiously from his tip across her chest and body, making Hermione shudder with pleasure, even in her post orgasmic haze. Raising his dick higher, thwacking her in the face in a most degrading manner, Hermione was sure he did it on purpose, and renewed wetness was leaking between Hermione's thighs. Remus began to drag his cock, leaking juices and precum all the way, all over her face in a deliciously derogatory manner. He was showing his complete dominance and ownership over her, rubbing himself and his essence all over her while she took it with steadfast submissiveness, her eyes lowered. It was absolutely humiliating, but she couldn't deny how aroused she was by the act Remus was committing against her. As precum began to dry on her face and Remus continued to swirl his cock over her face, Hermione longed to touch herself again, or for Remus to touch her. Instead, he painted her lips with precum, running his dick across them before saying simply, "open". Hermione obeyed immediately, and Remus slipped his cock into her mouth, pressing her head to him and letting her suck him before beginning to thrust heavily into her mouth, taking no care for her gag reflex. It wasn't so much that she gave him a blowjob as that he had sex with her mouth, pistioning in and out of it. Just when his thrusts and grunts were becoming more erratic and Hermione could tell that Remus was about to cum, he withdrew his cock from her mouth, and with a jerk, once again came all over her face. Hermione barely had time to close her eyes before she was hit with the deluge of white, sticky cum. She licked the area around her mouth eagerly, lapping up as much of Remus' cum as she could.

Remus panted heavily, his cock gradually deflating against her face. He let her percolate under her facial for a few minutes before vanishing his cum from her face with his wand.

After giving Hermione some time to come down from her high, and taking some time to come down from his, Remus issued another order.

"Kneel on your desk."

He wanted to give her something to remember him by every time she was in his class, if this did in fact turn out to be his last time with her. Crawling on shaky legs, still dazed from Remus' recent acts, Hermione knelt on her desk, assuming an animal like position that readied her for doggie style coupling, which while not _exactly _appropriate for Remus, was what he had in mind. Standing behind his goddess, and in Remus' mind, to him, she truly was one, with an already newly errect cock, Remus at first simply stared at the lovely curve of Hermione's arse before reaching out to palm and stroke it lovingly, rather than roughly. He soon, however, abandoned this approach, and without warning, drove hard and sudden into Hermione from behind. She gave a cry, the sound of which, along with her growing chorus of breathy moans as Remus continued to pump mercilessly in and out of her, he reveled in. Remus puncuated his hard drives with hard slaps to Hermione's already bruised bum, and by pulling on her tendrils of wild, bushy hair in his passion. When he was done, and they were both satisfied, he lay panting over her for a few minutes, before reluctantly breaking away from her. They both turned over to face each other.

"Hi, love," he said, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers, and kissed her softly on the mouth.

"Hi," Hermione breathed softly.

"You can get down now," he told her, and Hermione unlocked her legs from the desks. They almost buckled under her when she tried to stand, but Remus caught her and scooped her up, cradling her to his chest before depositing her on the top of his desk.

"Listen, Hermione, can we talk?" Remus asked hesitantly, clearly not in Stern Professor Mode anymore.

"Sure," Hermione said quietly, and her heart sunk. She thought she knew where this was going. Remus was going to attempt to let her down easily, tell her that the detentions had been fun, but now it was over, and he hoped their friendship could be maintained. Hermione repressed a sigh. Remus, for his part, suddenly seemed inordinately uncomfortable and nervous.

"Look," he began, "I don't know how you feel about it, but I think we've been having some bloody fantastic sex-"

"I agree," Hermione chimed in, giving Remus some measure of confidence, at least she seemed receptive so far.

Remus smiled. "Good. And I think we could, we could have, erm, normal sex, for lack of a better term, too. Or we could continue doing what we're doing. You don't need to have detention, I doubt you will again. To tell you the truth, I really just gave you the one because I wanted to erm, spend more time with you I suppose," he blushed, a complete contrast to how he had been behaving earlier that night. "Or we could have both kinds of sex, or other kinds, whatever kinds. There are more than two kinds of sex, obviously. Variety is good. . Even if it's just sex of whatever kind, or friendship, or maybe something more…," he trailed off hopefully. "I'm rambling now, sorry, god. He palmed his forehead. "So…yeah."

Hermione stared at him in open mouthed shock, her mouth a perfect 'o'. Friendship, sex, or maybe something more? How about all three?

"Stupid," Remus was now muttering. "Taking advice from Sirius, what was I thinking? Of course it blew up in my face, why would she ever want a relationship with me, who in the hell am I kidding? Stupid Sirius…bad idea-"

"Remus, Remus," Hermione reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Stop it."

"Sorry," Remus apologized, feeling incredibly stupid and embarrassed.

"Don't be, I had no idea," she said, a beatific smile blossoming on her face.

"Had no idea about what?" Remus asked, cautiously hopeful. After all, she was smiling. That had to be good.

"That Sirius was actually capable of giving good advice."

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><p><em>AN: Well, that's all folks. Yes, another facial. Why? Cuz I like them. Take from that what you will. Caucus' were cra-cra tonight, hot damn, can't believe Santorum swept, I've had the coverage on when I was typing this up. Look up his name on urban dictionary. As a liberal, I'm very pleased he won. Hope I haven't offended anyone, but if you're reading this you're probably not conservative. Sorry to talk about politics, but I'm such a junkie, I swear. Please review, ya'll. And check out my other story, a cute (if I do say so myself) RLHG oneshot involving Little Red Riding Hood and Pie. Also, it's my b-day today. 19 bitches! Review for that! I know it's short, sorry!<br>_


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